For Bitter or for Worse
by Kerichi
Summary: All is not well. George uses work and Firewhisky to cope with Fred's death until a drink with a friend leads to something that dulls pain better than alcohol. Emotionally torn by grief, he struggles to allow Alicia into his life. And then comes baby . . .
1. Pain and Comfort

All was not well.

Voldemort was defeated. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister for Magic, vowed to forge a harmonious relationship between magical creatures and wizard kind. Diagon Alley shops had reopened. The economy was booming. None of it mattered to George Weasley. He didn't care how many _Wizarding World Saved _stories were printed by the _Daily Prophet. _His world had shattered the night he lost his twin, and nothing could put it right.

If he used work and Firewhisky to cope, it was no one's business but his own. It never stopped him from doing his family duty–until today. He didn't feel up to seeing Ginny onto the Hogwarts Express; he felt like something a Kneazle dragged in. When the alarm rang earlier, he had knocked it onto the floor and pulled a pillow over his head. Forget solidarity and all that rot. He had a hangover.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

"We don't want any. Go away," muttered George. Pain sliced through his heart the way a spell had once sliced off his ear. There was no "we" anymore.

_Sure there is, _he could almost hear his brother say. _Nothing separates twins. It's just that death has sadly limited my wit and charm to an audience of one._

In his mind, Fred grinned. Tears pricked George's eyes. "Shut the hell up," he said thickly.

"If you're talking to yourself, you're awake, so roll out of bed and drag your arse into the shower," said a voice from the doorway.

George stayed where he was. "How did you get in?"

Bill said, "Forgot giving me the counter ward that time I brought you home from the pub? Maybe you should stop drinking."

"I'll change the ward instead, thanks." George scrunched his eyes shut tighter. "I feel like shite. I'm not going. Tell the family I have dragon pox for all I care." He sat up when the pillow was yanked away. "Hey!"

"I'm not taking no for an answer."

"That line might work when Fleur isn't in the mood, but I'm not impressed, brother." George mentally ran through his repertoire of nonverbal jinxes.

"_Protego!" _said Bill, an instant before George cast a jelly legs. _"Aquamenti!" _

A string of curses left George's lips upon being drenched with icy water.

Bill sighed. "Call me anything you like, but get up."

George stubbornly laid back and closed his eyes.

"Fine. Be that way. _Mobilicorpus!"_

The sensation of floating toward the bathroom was nauseating. "Let me down, you bastard!" If only Bill was in range. George would vomit on him. Dumped onto the tiles beneath the showerhead, he groaned. His entire body ached. Cold spray propelled him to his feet. "_Ahhh!"_

"I'll lay out some clothes and fix breakfast." Bill took a vial out of a pocket. "Drink this," he said.

"W–what is it?" George's teeth were chattering.

"Hair of the Dog. It'll sober you up."

George pulled the stopper from the vial and chugged down vile-tasting glop. "Sadist." He threw the cork at his brother's head.

Bill caught it. "Be out in five minutes."

"Yes, Dad."

A smile pulled at the scars on Bill's face. "Who told you? Mum?"

"Told me what?"

"Fleur's pregnant. It's a boy."

"Congratulations." George reached blindly for the soap.

"Really?" Bill's smile widened and then faded. "I've felt guilty for being so happy after…you know."

Fred's death hung like a dark cloud between them. George didn't want to talk about it. He said, "Look, unless you want to watch me wash something that'll give you an inferiority complex–"

Bill snorted. "I don't," he said. "Not that I'd have a complex, _little _brother."

George's mouth barely turned up at the corners. Months ago, he would have laughed his head off and dared Bill to compare.

"Okay," Bill said. "I'll go search for clean clothes in that pigsty you call a bedroom."

George let the water pound over him, wishing it would numb his emotions the way it did his skin. How nice it was for the family to have a new Weasley to replace the one they had lost: how bloody wonderful.

Bitterness welled. Everyone else seemed eager to forget the war and go on with life. He barely made it through each day. Sometimes, on sleepless nights, he wondered why he even bothered to make the effort.

_Who are you kidding? You'd never hurt the family that way—much less leave them the shop! They've got no imagination, no business sense. The lot would ruin our reputation and go bankrupt within a year!_ Fred's imagined words brought a fleeting smile to George's face. It was the truth.

All humour drained away when he saw the green suit on the bed. He and Fred had thought they were cool wearing dragon hide. A flick of his wand made the outfit float back into the wardrobe before he searched through a mound of clothes beside the bed. There was a plain black tee and trousers that smelled reasonably clean. He put them on, thinking they matched his mood.

At the station, he greeted everyone while pretending not to notice the looks of concern. He checked the time.

"You bought a new watch?" his mother asked sharply. "Did you lose the one we gave you on your seventeenth birthday?"

"No." _I put it in a box next to the one you gave Fred, because I every time I look at it I want to drown in a bottle of Firewhisky, _he thought, _but you don't want to know that, do you, Mum?_ _You want to believe we're one, big, happy family._ George's eyes went to Ginny. "Shouldn't you be boarding the train?" He made an effort to smile. "You don't have to hold Harry's hand so tight. You'll see him at Christmas."

An uneasy silence fell. Ron said, "What are you talking about? She'll see him every day."

George blinked. "What?"

"We're all going back to complete seventh year," said Harry. "Don't you remember? We made the announcement weeks ago."

Everyone was staring. It was one of the most awkward moments of George's life. Now they all knew that he had fallen into the habit of tuning out during family dinners. He glanced at his mother. Her lips were trembling as if she would burst into tears. Beside her, Percy frowned.

George decided to brazen it out. "Better you three than me," he said heartily. "The only books I want to open are account books." He checked his watch again. "Hate to run, but I'm expecting an early delivery, so…see you!"

"Wait up!" called Percy. "I'll walk with you." The moment they strolled out of earshot, he said, "How are things going these days?"

"Business is good, but I've noticed that the Ministry's temporary improvement has eroded since you've accepted another post." George lifted a brow. "Coincidence? I think not."

Percy didn't splutter the way he would have in the past. Instead, he said quietly, "You still haven't forgiven me, have you?"

A muscle jumped in George's jaw. "Forgiven you for what?"

"For living."

"You're mental." George made to walk on.

Percy caught his arm. "No. I'm not." His voice wavered. "Admit it. You wish I had died instead of Fred."

George looked back to see his family and friends gathered in a tight circle. Their expressions were tense. Hoping he and Percy would hug, were they, or afraid that he'd knock the wank's teeth out? He pulled his arm away. "You're damn right I do."

-

Alicia Spinnet was waving goodbye to her cousin Stacie when she saw George Weasley. The bottom dropped out of her stomach. He looked so angry and miserable. She left her family to follow him through the barrier.

_Gods I'm out of shape. _She panted as she sprinted across the platform. "George!"

He glanced over his shoulder and then stopped to let her catch up. Brown eyes flickered over Alicia in a way that deepened the flush on her cheeks and made her even more aware that curvy women should not run in a sundress and heels.

"Hullo, George," she said.

"Hullo, Alicia."

The boy she had gone to school with would have made a joke about her odd running gear and put her at ease. This man waited for her to speak. She smiled hesitantly. "I've been meaning to ask for months. Would–would you like to meet for a drink sometime? I know managing the shop doesn't leave you with time to have lunch anymore, but I miss talking Quidditch." _I miss you. _

After a moment, he nodded. "I'm at the Bat and Bludger most nights."

"How about tonight?"

"I'll be there."

"Great!" Alicia wanted to hug him, but his closed expression kept her at a distance. She wondered if he kept the world at a distance now, if that was his way of coping with pain. Her heart went out to him.

George's eyes looked past her shoulder. He said, "I have to get back to the shop. Early delivery. See you later."

She watched him walk away before turning to see what had made George's eyes darken. It was his family.

Hours later, her own family–her mother–hovered, transparently curious to know the name of the "friend" Alicia was meeting, although she didn't ask. The two of them got along so well because each respected the other's privacy. If her mum hadn't found a piece of parchment with "Mrs. George Weasley" written on it during Christmas break fifth year, Alicia might have told her. As it was, she didn't want to deal with the questions that would follow.

_George Weasley? The one you had a crush on? The one who lost his twin during the war? Is it wise to be in his company right now? _

Mum thought she had too soft a heart. She would worry that George would take advantage of it. Alicia smiled wistfully. As if he had ever looked at her with anything except friendship.

She glanced down at her halter top and took the statement back. It wasn't quite true. There were times at school when she'd caught him giving her an up-and-down look. Earlier, he had definitely stared at her chest. She pulled her shoulders back and down. If George enjoyed the view, she'd give him plenty to see!

Inside the Bat and Bludger, however, Alicia nervously realised that the place was filled with rowdy Quidditch fans who seemed to appreciate a short skirt and an eyeful of cleavage as much as she hoped George would. Spying a redhead sitting alone at the far corner of the pub, she stopped by the bar for a glass of wine and hurried over. Her pulse leapt when he saw her and rose to his feet. It was an effort to breathe slowly. She didn't have running to blame anymore.

"Hullo," he said. "You look...nice..."

His tone turned "nice" into "sexy." Alicia smiled. "You look _nice _too."

One corner of his lips turned up. "Thank you."

She took a seat. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered madly when he slid onto the bench beside her.

He leaned close. "I hate shouting over noise, don't you?"

There was a hint of boyish mischief in his eyes. Alicia was glad to see it. She swayed toward him. "Yes."

His gaze fell to her mouth.

Her lips parted.

The server chose that moment to drop by. "Another round?"

George said, "A bottle of Ogden's Best and a second glass."

"And here I thought you drank alone," said the woman, sashaying off to the bar.

Alicia lifted her wineglass. "I'm not much of a drinker."

George's smile was brief and wry. "Neither was I before the war."

Alicia put her hand on his arm. "When my father was murdered, I felt so low, and yet, I can't begin to imagine what you're going through. I'm so sorry about Fred."

"Thanks, here's our drinks." George's smile was tight.

She watched him pay the server and pour two shots. He obviously wasn't ready to talk about Fred. Alicia understood. She still got teary when she thought of her father.

George offered her a drink. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe I should stick to wine."

"_But liquor is quicker."_

What was he trying to say? "Quicker, how?"

"Heard it in Muggle Studies. Some bloke wrote it about ice-breaking."

"Oh." She lifted her glass. "Here's to breaking the ice."

By the time the bar closed, Alicia was thankful that she had touched glasses but not drained the contents after the third round. George wasn't staggering drunk the way she would've been, but he leaned against her with his arm wrapped around her shoulders for stability.

"Don't even think of trying to Disapparate," she said. "I'll do a Side-Along Apparation or we'll walk. It's up to you."

The ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "Never done it sideways before."

Once they Apparated to the shop, he led her around to the back entrance and up the stairs to his flat. "Don' want you to see how messy this place is," George said, pulling her though the lounge in the dark. There was an orb glowing softly in his bedroom. "Made the bed, though." He began sifting his fingers through her hair. "Got my priorities right."

The timbre of his voice made her shiver. "What are your priorities?"

"I want to feel something." His fingers trailed across her face. "I'm tired of being alone." Slowly, he bent to kiss her.

It was like a fantasy come to life. She slid her arms around his neck and opened her mouth and heart, kissing him the way she had longed to for years. When he deepened the embrace, she responded passionately.

"Stay," he whispered against her lips.

There were reasons why she should leave. He was drunk and grieving, and she wasn't into casual relationships or taking a contraceptive potion. If she was smart, she would go before things went too far.

He moaned. "Nothing's ever felt this good."

She stayed.

-

* * *

A/N: Ogden Nash is the Muggle who reflected about ice-breaking, _Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker. _As for me, I once wrote a fluffy good George/Alicia fic called **Christmas Sweet**. This story isn't as fluffy, but I hope readers find this story cathartic as well as entertaining! **Special Thanks **go to **MollyCoddles, Vei, **and the anime-writing **other Kerichi **for reading and giving feedback on the story!


	2. The Morning After

In the morning, when deep sleep gave way to less restful slumber, George began to dream.

-

_He was at The Burrow. The rest of the family had gone inside after a game of Quidditch, but George was enjoying the sun and the breeze too much. He stretched out on the tall grass and let his eyes close, prepared to nap until someone yelled out the back door that it was time for dinner._

_He awoke when a clump of dirt hit him in the face. George tried to sit up. He couldn't. He was tied down with numerous lines of copper wire from his father's workshop. He cut his eyes to the side and gaped in disbelief. An army of garden gnomes stared back at him. Two gnomes stood at the front. One had a four-leaf clover stuck into his grimy hat. George guessed that he was the leader. The other gnome was distinguishable from his brethren only by the gold sheen of his skin. _

_When the leader nodded solemnly, the shiny gnome ran toward George. Tiny fists tugged red hair in order to use it like a rope. Once the gnome climbed up to stand on George's brow, he jumped in place. As one, the other gnomes clapped their hands._

_Clap! Clap! Clap!_

_George's head began to pound. He said, "Is this about last Christmas? You should have been honoured! How many gnomes get to be a Christmas Angel? Besides, the gold paint's an improvement!"_

_The gnome kept jumping up and down. George yelled, "Get off me you vengeful little squit! It was a joke!" He drew in a deep breath to call at the top of his lungs, "MUM!"_

_-_

"George! Wake up!"

His eyes snapped open. Alicia was bending over him, shaking his shoulder. George placed his hand over hers. "Don't."

Alicia's tone softened. "Oh, I'm sorry. Does your head hurt? I'll go get you a potion."

He kept his grip on her hand. "Remember what I told you? There are two kinds of Morning After potions. One's for you."

Even with a pounding headache, he appreciated the effect a fervent nod had on her torso. He enjoyed the view as she hurried out of the room, as well. When she returned with two flagons, George stretched out a hand for the black container. He pulled out the cork and drank the contents with a sigh of relief.

Alicia held up the red flagon. "How long has this been sitting in your bathroom cupboard? Are you sure–"

"–it's still good. Bill said he looked for a brand with a long shelf life, since it would probably be ages before either Fred or I got..." He looked away.

"Lucky?"

Alicia's smiling voice triggered another inside George's head.

_Tell her there used to be two red flagons, but you were too chivalrous to turn the attack at Bill's wedding into a romantic opportunity! _He could "see" Fred wink. _Girls love chivalry! _

George shook his head.

Alicia misread his action. "I'm glad you didn't use it. Intimacy means more than getting lucky to me too."

He watched her drink the potion, thinking a good girl with a great body spelled trouble. She would want to date, to introduce him to her mum, and meet his family. He couldn't handle commitment or deal with any kind of relationship.

"Tasted like sour cherries," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Why aren't there contraceptive potions for men to take?"

George shrugged. "Society expects men to have self control. Unfortunately, willpower as a contraceptive is ninety-nine point nine percent ineffective."

Her smile brought out the dimples in her cheeks. He almost groaned. Why did Alicia have to be so damned pretty? Despite having a Morning After potion on hand, he would have sent her home the minute she'd confessed that she wasn't on birth control if he wasn't so attracted to her. As for saying goodbye now, it would be a lot easier to do if he didn't want to drag her back into bed. His eyes flickered over shapely curves. Maybe he didn't have to let her go just yet. "I have to shower and get ready for work." He slid off the bed, feeling smug that her gaze was fixed on his body. "Join me?"

When he brushed his lips across hers, she returned his kiss eagerly. George smiled. He liked the taste of sour cherries.

Two hours later, he was finishing the inventory and muttering curses beneath his breath. The sales of **U-No-Poo **had steadily gone down the toilet after its first, brief success. While George appreciated the irony of a constipation product that didn't move, the shop couldn't afford to keep non-selling items prominently displayed. He would have to move Fred's brainchild to a low shelf in the back.

_No sentiment in business, we always said. If 'U-No-Poo' stinks, flush it!_

George rolled his eyes. If his brother's voice was going to make itself heard, the least it could do was spare him the corny jokes.

_Ha! You thought that was corny? What do you call a bear that loses an ear? A bee! Get it? A "B"?_

George threw down his quill and rubbed his eyes. He was paying the price for lack of sleep–not that he regretted it. He was only sorry that Alicia wasn't a no-strings type of girl. If she was, oh the things he would do to her.

"Mast–sir, there has been an incident with a Canary Cream that requires your attention."

Free house-elves occasionally slipped back into old habits of addressing those in a position of authority. George pretended not to notice. "Young boy, hysteric mother? Thanks, Caper. I'll deal with it." He strode past his assistant and into the shop.

A canary the size of a human boy stood in the centre of the room, head lifted in song. The screeching of a frizzy-haired witch was a shrill counterpoint. "Help! Help! Call St. Mungo's, call Magical Law Enforcement, help!" She saw George approach and cried, "You! Are you the owner? Do something to help my Andrew at once or there will be charges!"

_Andrew _was a brainless wonder for stuffing a joke shop cream into his greedy maw. George was tempted to say that if there were charges filed, it would be against the little git for theft. That wouldn't earn him a sale, however, so he said calmly, "He'll change back in another minute or two." George held up a hand to his undamaged ear as if listening intently. "You must be very proud."

"Wh–what?"

"Your son has a sweet voice, not shrill like others I've heard." _Yours, for instance._

"Oh. Well, I suppose..."

"And to be a Yellow Yorkshire Canary! Smart lines, bold expression and song. Not every customer ends up a favourite of fanciers around the world."

"They don't?"

George leaned closer, as if imparting a secret. "One bloke wanted to surprise his wife on her birthday. He turned into a Frosted Pink Chopper."

The woman's mouth dropped open. "Really?"

"The wife was quite surprised." The fact that the name was misleading, pink colouration was slight, and had nothing to do with masculinity or sexual orientation he kept to himself.

"Mum, Mum, buy a box of Canary Creams! That was the coolest thing ever! I want to be a canary again. I want it more than anything!" The boy had resumed his true form.

George thought the kid sounded better as a canary.

"Your grandmother is fond of birds," said the witch, "and her one hundredth birthday is coming up soon..."

George recognised parental caving when he heard it. He signalled his assistant. Caper materialised beside the woman with an ornately wrapped, exorbitantly expensive "Limited Collector's Edition" box of Canary Creams in hand.

The boy took one look at the shiny paper and pulled at his mother's arm. "Buy it, Mum! Buy it!"

After the doting mother and her spoiled "Andykins" left the shop, George walked to the entrance. The mornings were always slow. Most of his customers flocked into the shop on lunch hours or after work. He could take a break; take a walk down the alley to stretch his legs.

_Stop by Alicia's shop to say hello, maybe lure her into the back for a kiss and cuddle? Go, man, go!_

"Fred's" voice brought George crashing back to reality. He had decided that seeing her again was a bad idea. No matter how much he wanted her body, Alicia was a complication he didn't need. He had to forget last night. Scowling, he returned to his office to try and do the work of two men.

-

It had been three days since Alicia kissed George goodbye, feeling so happy she had practically floated on air.

She had snuck into her room through the window, but her mother hadn't been fooled. The look on her face when Alicia went downstairs to the shop said that she knew her daughter had been out all night.

Alicia had given herself away by humming. She had hummed love songs while getting dressed, hummed while descending the stairs, and continued to hum all that first morning. It was only when she closed _The Light Fantastic _and straightened illumination orbs on the shelves that she realised that George hadn't owled or dropped by to say hello.

Thinking that he was busy and she would be patient, Alicia dropped by the Apothecary to pick up a long-lasting contraceptive potion. The one she chose tasted like sweet cherries and promised to be effective for an entire month.

She should have saved her Galleons. He hadn't owled that night or the next day, either. During lunch on the second day, she and a friend who worked at Flourish and Blott's had taken a "power walk." As she passed George's shop, Alicia paused when she saw him rearranging a display in the front window. He had stared back at her until Vicky pulled her away, exclaiming that she didn't have time to gawk at old crushes when there were calories to burn!

Whatever calories she had burned walking were nullified by the chocolate truffles Alicia ate later to comfort herself. She couldn't get his face out of her head, the way his long fringe fell into eyes that attracted yet pushed her away at the same time. She had cried herself to sleep thinking about it.

On the third morning after the night she had spent with George, Alicia sadly forced herself to acknowledge that he didn't want to see her again. Unlike her, he hadn't been looking for a relationship, and she had to accept that.

By lunchtime, she had resolved that the next time Vicky Frobisher offered to set her up with her cousin David, she would finally agree. Just because his job colour-coding owls at the post office sounded dull didn't mean he was. Maybe he had an interesting hobby, or liked to dance. It would be nice to go dancing, even if she had to dance with a different partner than she had hoped for.

At the end of the day, after wrapping a lava orb for a wizard whose wife thought they were "groovy," Alicia almost dropped the gift bag when she glanced at the window and caught sight of a man standing on the pavement outside, looking in.

It was George. He looked so dark and brooding–almost angry. She handed the customer his orb and walked toward the door.

"I must say, your service to customers is unparallel," said the customer, apparently believing she'd opened the door for him. "I shall recommend this shop to my colleagues at the Ministry."

"Thank you," she said distractedly, her eyes searching for George.

He was gone.

Tears pricked her eyelids.

"Darling? Why aren't you closing the shop? Are you feeling all right?" Alicia's mother asked from the back where she was restocking shelves.

"I'm fine, Mum," said Alicia, as much to herself as to her mother.

"You sound congested. I'll stay home tonight and conjure up some soup."

"No! I'll pick up some chicken sweet corn soup from a takeaway. You go play mah-jongg. Mrs. Tonks would be disappointed if you didn't. She always says you're her only real competition."

"I do have an excellent memory, and my powers of observation have always been keen." Alicia's mum strolled over to kiss her daughter on the cheek. "Remember that, dear–and that I'm here whenever you need to talk."

"Thanks, Mum."

After a solitary dinner, Alicia ran a bath to relax, but it was no use. She kept thinking about George.

_Tap, tap, tap!_

She scrambled out of the bathtub and into a robe. Someone was tapping on her window! She ran into the bedroom and snatched her wand off the bedside table, pointing it at the would-be intruder.

It was George.

He was levitating outside her first floor window. She kept her distance. "What do you want?"

A charm made his voice sound as if it was whispering in her ear. "Tell me you missed me."

His voice was more compelling than any vampire she'd learned about in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Her fingers trembled. "I missed you."

"Tell me you want me."

Alicia stubbornly shook her head.

He floated nearer. "I tried to stay away, but I couldn't. Let me in."

She had planned to tell him "no" and let down the shade, but when she was close enough to look into deep brown eyes, Alicia found herself opening the window. George climbed into the bedroom and stood on the rug, watching her in a way that made her heart pound. She set aside her wand. "What do you want?"

"To be with you."

The raw need in his voice melted her defences. When he took a step forward, she met him with open arms.

-

* * *

A/N: I post an R/T fic on Fridays, so I'll do my best to post this one every Friday too. **Special Thanks **go to **MollyCoddles **for beta-reading and to every reader who found my story and kindly reviewed! 40/16, Albus Severus, alix33, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Born Mischievous, Bright Green Eyes, Carnivalgirl, ElspethBates, Evo422, FNP, GraysonGirl , High Snow Lord of the Blowland, Indigoenigma, Io.sono.Emilia, Lieu of Flowers, Melli, MollyCoddles, Nesha227, potteronpotluvhim, RahNee, Sandy, Shannon, sirenblood, Sivaroobini Lupin-Black, Sofia666, Sophia Loren, and sunny9847 


	3. Making Love Instead of Misery

-

He awoke without a hangover.

George heard a soft sigh and opened his eyes to look at the woman responsible for the best night of sleep he could remember. Alicia lay on her side with her hand on his chest. Tousled waves of brown hair and rosy lips gave her the appearance of a wanton angel.

His gaze travelled over her body. _Why the hell did she let me stay? I didn't promise her anything, not even a kiss goodbye. I could get up and leave right now. _

She shifted toward him. The fingers resting lightly on his skin slid lower. George decided to hang around a little longer. If she was pretending to sleep in order to do something naughty, the least he could was encourage her. He let his hands do some roaming of their own.

"Sweetheart, did you forget to set your alarm? The shop opens in half an—OH!"

George took his hand off Alicia's arse to pull up the duvet. He glanced from the daughter staring at him with pleading eyes to the mother standing in the doorway with an expression of complete shock on her face. "Good morning, Mrs. Spinnet," he said in his most polite tone.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley. Alicia, I'll see you downstairs."

When the door clicked shut, George said, "Well, that was awkward, but not bad, considering."

"Considering what?"

Obviously Alicia had never experienced motherly wrath that made Howlers seem like love notes by comparison. "Considering that the door was unlocked all night. She could have walked in on something that would've made her curse me out the window—head first!"

Alicia winced, and then giggled. "My mum's not the cursing type."

He made a face. "You don't know how lucky you are."

She kissed him. "Yes, I do."

George felt like wincing. The soft, sexy tone of her voice caused alarm bells to clang in his head.

_Warning! Warning! Someone cares about you. Run for your life! _

Fred's imagined voice was sarcastic, but George took the words literally. "Thanks. I'd better go." He hurriedly dressed before he did something stupid, like ask her out to dinner that night. No matter how much he wanted Alicia for afters, he refused to sit in a restaurant filled with happy, laughing families.

_Then be alone with her in our flat! She's taken a contraceptive potion, and you still haven't done it sideways..._

_I was referring to Side-Along Apparation, _George thought. He could almost hear a ghostly snigger.

_Sure you were..._

"George?" said Alicia, standing beside the bed. "Did you hear me? I asked if you'd like to come over for dinner tonight."

_Notice she didn't put on a robe. There's a bit of cunning beneath that sweet exterior. I like that in a woman!_

George couldn't tell if he was hearing "Fred" or his own thoughts. He found that disturbing, but not enough to keep from saying, "Come to my place instead. I'm not into family right now."

"What are you into?"

Pink tinted her cheeks. He was tempted to tell her in detail. Instead, he said, "You."

Her blush deepened. "What time?"

"Seven."

"What should I bring?"

George smiled. "Dessert."

-

Alicia was still humming when she entered the shop.

"Ooh, that sounds dreamy. What's the song?"

Alicia smiled at the part-time clerk whose girlish voice was at odds with her appearance. Zoe's straight dark hair and aquiline nose intimidated customers who expected her to be haughty. They were often visibly surprised by the girl's bubbly disposition.

Alicia liked to joke that her friend was a blonde born in a brunette's body. At that moment, though, she would have preferred the girl to be quiet and anti-social. "I don't remember. Just some song I heard."

"D'you recognise the song, Anne?" Zoe asked her boss.

_"You cast a spell on me."_

"Yeah, that's it!" Zoe swayed back and forth. Her thin, warbling voice filled the shop. "_You've got a hold on me, your face is all I see, I never want to break free, you cast a spell on me..."_

"Celestina Warbeck couldn't sing it better," Anne said blandly.

Alicia covered her mouth to hide a smile. Her father used to enjoy listening to the singer, but she and her mother had made faces at each other every time the "Singing Sorceress" trilled a high note. When she realised that her mum was watching her closely, Alicia decided to dust the back shelves.

Her mother followed. "Am I supposed to pretend this morning never happened?"

"Yes, please." Alicia flicked her wand to send the ostrich feather duster into motion.

"I can't do that—not when I suspect that you hummed today for the same reason you were humming on Monday."

"I felt like it?"

Her mother gave "the look" that said she was not going to be put off.

Alicia sighed. "All right. Yes, George and I—I don't know how to explain it—but I'm not going to stop seeing him."

"I'm not asking you to."

"Good." Alicia's relieved smile froze when her mother took her hand and gently squeezed.

"All the same, I have to say, I don't think you know what you're getting into. Some of the women in my mah-jongg group may be gossips, but I believe them when they say George Weasley is a very troubled young man."

Alicia jerked her hand away. "He lost his brother. I wouldn't respect him if he wasn't!"

Although her daughter kept her voice down, Anne snapped, "Don't use that tone with me!"

"Don't talk about George that way! You don't know him. You—"

"_Beg pardon!"_

Zoe stood a couple of metres away, staring at them with round eyes. "I hate to interrupt a, erm, _domestic dialogue, _but there's a bloke who needs a signature before he can unload a delivery round back."

"I'll see to the delivery," said Alicia, needing to escape Zoe's curiosity and Anne's tight-lipped worry. She wanted to say something to reassure her mum, but she couldn't. She didn't know what she was getting into. All she knew was that she had to be with George.

-

He almost owled and cancelled their dinner date. Three times, he had picked up a sheet of parchment to pen the words "something's come up," yet didn't.

George blamed Fred. His brother might not be the typical ghost, hovering about, visibly annoying, but his voice was heard strong and clear. Earlier, when George had first picked up a quill to pen a note, he had barely scratched out "Dear Alicia" when his brother's snort was heard.

_Dear? Is that the best you can do? "Dear" is what you write to Auntie Muriel to thank her for sending five galleons on your birthday!_

George crumpled up the sheet of parchment and tossed it toward the rubbish bin.

_He throws! He misses! Gryffindor fans thank their stars he never made Chaser! _The moment George wrote on a new sheet, he heard his brother "speak" as if peering over his shoulder. _Not bad. "Alicia" is to the point. Not sappy. What's next? I suggest "please bring edible massage oil instead of dessert. I have a partiality for almonds."_

"I'm going to cancel," said George, his voice sounding loud in the quiet of the office.

_Cancel? The girl is __willing to put up with you. More importantly, she's willing to have sex with you, and you're going to cancel? You're killing me!_

Another sheet of parchment was sent toward the bin. "I can't kill you. You're already dead." George fought back the tears making his throat ache. Every time he thought he was dealing well with the reality that Fred was gone, waves of raw emotion proved otherwise.

_I prefer "life-challenged" myself. _

"Shut the ruddy hell up." George balled up a third piece of parchment and left it on his desk.

In the shop, he found Caper practically doing a jig while wrapping a box. George smiled at the customer and thanked him for choosing Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, waiting until the man left to ask, "What'd he buy?"

"The entire line of Wet-Start Fireworks!"

"Due to your brilliant salesmanship, I'm sure," said George.

Caper's tennis ball-shaped eyes glowed with excitement. "Mr. Scamander's nephew is searching for Snorkacks in the Amazon. He is hoping they will be drawn to the pretty lights."

George thought that magical creatures would be more likely to be driven deeper into the rainforest, but he didn't want to burst the elf's bubble. He said, "I don't envy him the shipping. The Owl Post Office charges loads for Shrinking Spells, and if you want a return receipt…." He trailed off, struck by something. "The name Scamandar sounds familiar. Where have I heard that before?"

"Newt Scamander is the author of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them!_"

"Of course!" said George, who had never read the book and never intended to. "Did you get his autograph?"

Caper held up a raggedy-edged square of brown wrapping paper. "I shall treasure it always."

George waited for his assistant to finish gazing fondly at the scrap of paper. "I have a favour to ask," he said.

Bat-like ears quivered. "A favour?"

"A huge one. Troll-sized. Maybe even giant."

The tips of Caper's ears turned pink. "Is it about _cleaning?"_

"Yes."

"Dirty dishes?"

George hunched a shoulder. "I haven't done any clearing up in awhile."

"Unwashed clothing?"

"Mounds."

"What else?"

"Everything else. I haven't dusted or used a Cleaning Charm since—well—ages. I thought if I minded the shop, you could pop up to the flat and work your magic. I'd throw in a case of Butterbeer to show my appreciation."

Bright green eyes grew watery. "This is one of the happiest days of Caper's life!"

George patted his sniffling employee on the shoulder. "Enjoy it while it lasts, mate."

-

After work, Alicia began to hunt through her wardrobe for something to wear. Clothing was soon scattered across her bed. She tossed a broomstick skirt onto the pile and sighed heavily. Nothing was right. She wanted to appear casual, yet sexy, natural, but alluring.

"Are you looking for items to donate to charity, or are you getting ready for a date?"

Alicia turned to see her mother standing in the doorway. "George is making dinner."

"He cooks?"

Alicia picked up a sleeveless top. "He could order pizza for all I care." She handed the yellow floral print to Anne. "Didn't I borrow this from you to wear to the senior centre's Spring Fling?"

"Yes. Your grandfather asked that we wear yellow."

"Why? We've got fair skin. We probably looked jaundiced."

"Yellow was your grandmother's favourite colour." Anne smiled wistfully. "It never flattered her, either, but Dad always said that she looked beautiful."

"Love is blind?"

"Or sees the beloved through rose-coloured glasses."

Alicia got the point, but she wasn't going to argue with her mother. It would do no good. Her mum was set on believing George was bad news, and only time would prove her wrong. To hint that the conversation was over, she picked up a red, sleeveless dress with a square neckline and held it against her. It was discreetly sexy. She'd wear it.

Her mother continued to linger just inside the room. "What time shall I expect you home tonight?"

"I don't know, so don't wait up."

"All right. I'll respect your decisions, but please...try to make wise ones."

"Yes, Mum." Alicia picked up her wand and gave it a swish to send clothing back to hang inside the wardrobe.

An hour later, she was knocking on the door of George's flat. When he answered, she held out the chocolate-almond torte she'd picked up at the market. "Do you still like cake as much as you used to?" Alicia asked.

Looking very handsome in a black shirt and green dragon hide trousers, George said, "Are you afraid I'll eat the whole thing by myself the way I did sixth year?" His lips twitched at the corners. "I haven't done that in months." He smiled briefly at her giggle. "Tell you what. I'll make an Unbreakable Vow to share, if you like."

She shook her head. "I trust you."

George backed into the lounge. "Maybe you shouldn't."

"Maybe not, but I do." Alicia glanced around the space. "This is a lot tidier than I remember."

He looked like a little boy caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. "It was an unholy mess the other morning, wasn't it? I asked Caper, the elf who works at the shop, to clear the place out."

She was touched that he would go to the trouble. "You didn't have to do that," she said, as he led the way to the kitchen.

"I didn't want to scare you away," George said over his shoulder.

Alicia wanted to hug him as tightly as she could. She didn't. While George was joking, the words struck a chord because she felt that way about him, and the feeling was serious. She didn't want to scare him away from the relationship. "No worries about that," she said teasingly, "Unless you actually cooked instead of picking up takeaway."

He placed the torte on a kitchen counter, waving a hand toward the table and the distinctive white and red boxes of a local Chinese restaurant arranged in the middle. George winked. "No worries." He seated her before pouring them both a glass of wine. "What should we drink to?"

Was this a test? If she said "to us," would he think that she was trying to trap him into something he didn't want? Alicia decided to play it safe. "To house-elves and takeaway," she said with a smile.

George lifted his glass. "I'll drink to that."

-

* * *

A/N: Who thinks Alicia would have found herself kissed and sent home if she'd said "to us"? George has issues, to put it mildly. :D The readers who saved me from having neurotic writer issues by reviewing last week were...**40/16, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Born Mischievous, Calenmarwen, cream-cheese-girl, cream tea anyone, Genevieve, GraysonGirl , High Snow Lord of the Blowland, Jesse Roscoe-Solkalov, ladyofthebookworms, lbf1412, Lieu of Flowers, lyin', Machiavelli Jr, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, Nesha227, RahNee, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Sivaroobini Lupin-Black, Sophia Loren, sunny9847, terri-ellelight, waterdreamer** and **worldsapart.**


	4. A Family Affair

-

He was officially avoiding his family.

It hadn't started out that way. When his dad dropped by the shop the morning after Alicia came over for Chinese and stayed the night, George honestly hadn't been hungry. He'd been tired. He had jokingly told Alicia that she must add _in bed_ when she read her fortune, but he hadn't known her fortune was "The more you give, the more you will receive."

He had been anticipating her reaction when he read his. **All the effort you are making will ultimately pay off. **

A week after he declined his father's invitation, George received an owl inviting him to Sunday dinner at the Burrow. He sent back a note saying he'd already made plans. It wasn't a lie. He meant to spend the day with Alicia.

It wasn't until he had opened a note from Fleur and answered her _répondez s'il vous plaît_ in the negative that the truth sank in. George wasn't just avoiding a boring dinner party at his sister-in-law's. He was avoiding his family.

It was almost a relief to admit it. A release of tension to acknowledge that the last two weeks had been blessedly free of his family's concern about his wellbeing. Free of furtive looks laden with unspoken questions. Was he going to bollocks up the business? Drink his way beyond the veil to join his brother? Ever "move on" and accept Fred's death as fate?

"Hell, no" would be his answer, but no one ever asked. George figured they were afraid of hearing "Yes" to the first two.

The day after George sent an owl with his message; Bill stormed into his office. "_Désolé?"_ he growled.

"Yeah," said George. "Doesn't that mean "I'm sorry" in French?"

Bill took a piece of parchment out of his pocket and ripped it in half. He tossed the pieces and watched them flutter down upon the desk. "Sorry isn't good enough. You made my wife cry."

"Fleur's pregnant. She probably cries at the drop of a _chapeau_."

Billy-boy didn't appreciate the flippant tone. His eyes narrowed into slits. "She wrote the invitation by hand—in calligraphy!"

"She sprayed perfume on the envelope too," said George. "Tell her I said it was a nice touch."

"Tell her yourself."

George lifted a sheaf of papers. "Sorry. I have too much work to do."

"Don't be a gobshite." Bill took a step forward, his expression grim. "That's not the reason and you know it."

George picked up a quill and tapped it against the desk. He hid his unease, saying lightly, "Do I?"

Bill sat in one of the visitor's chairs. "Yes, you do, so come clean and I won't suggest mum drop by for a visit."

Too many card games had been played in the Weasley household for George not to call that bluff. He began to draw upon a scrap of parchment, feigning nonchalance. "There's nothing to tell."

Bill shot to his feet. "I'll be on my way to the Owl Post Office, then."

"Sit down." George threw down the quill. "The last thing I want is mum fussing over me." He raised the pitch of his voice. "How are you doing, dear? Are you eating properly? I worry that you're not eating properly!"

_Excellent imitation. _He could imagine Fred nodding in approval. _I would've made him laugh; not just chuckle, but you got the tone right._

Bill smiled. "Mum can't help it. She's a mother hen with a lot of chicks to worry about."

"One less these days."

In the silence that followed, George could almost hear a sharp whistle. _Bit harsh there, weren't you, brother?_

"All the more reason for you to come to dinner," Bill said quietly. "Reassure Mum that she hasn't lost another son."

George snatched up the quill and finished the drawing with quick, dark strokes. "All right. I'll go. Your work here is done, so let me get back to mine."

Instead of taking the hint to leave, Bill strolled over to stand beside the desk. "Never knew you were a Breast Man. I admire legs, myself. Who's the girl?"

George flipped the sketch over. "Nobody."

"If she's nobody, why'd you turn the parchment over?" The taunt brought back memories of a boyhood when Bill's smirks hadn't been twisted by scars.

Nostalgia didn't make George want to jinx the smirk off his brother's face any less than he had in the past. It only gave him the restraint not to try. He said, "I didn't want to get you in trouble with Fleur for ogling another woman."

Bill laughed. "My wife isn't insecure."

_If you were a Breast M__an, she would be, _George thought. He shrugged. "I've heard hormones make pregnant women emotional—sometimes hostile—but if you say so..."

"You're not going to bring up the sketch." Bill's wary expression said "Are you?"

"I won't if you won't."

"I'll be damned," Bill said wonderingly. "There really is a girl. Who is she? Bring her to dinner."

George stood up. "Charlie doesn't realise how fortunate he is, living in Romania. I wonder if Bucharest has a joke shop."

Bill shook his head. "Fine. Keep your secret, but keep your promise. I expect you at dinner Saturday."

"Yes, Dad."

A goofy look replaced his brother's stern expression. "Dad. I like the sound of that."

"That's good, because soon you'll be hearing it for the rest of your life." George walked his brother out and rang up a few sales while Caper reluctantly took a break. The elf would happily work all day without stopping if he wasn't literally pushed out of the shop.

At lunch, George could have walked down the alley to tell Alicia about his plans for Saturday. Instead, he went to the post office and sent an owl.

**Alicia, **

**Bill stopped by to guilt me into attending a family dinner Saturday night. I know we talked about doing something on the weekend. How about Sunday?**

**George**

-

When Alicia saw the owl flapping its wings to get her attention, her heart leapt. Was it a message from George? She threw open the window and almost dumped a tin of owl treats onto the floor her rush to reward the owl.

She had to reread the note before the underlying message sank in. George didn't want to take her to a family dinner, but he still wanted to fool around. The part of her brain that tried to get her to calm down before doing anything rash was overruled by hurt and anger. Alicia quickly penned a message.

**George, **

**Sunday is fine. If you bring your Fanged Frisbee, I'll pack a picnic. Meet at the park, one o'clock? I probably won't drag myself out of bed before noon.**

**Alicia**

As she had hoped, he sent a response back within minutes.

**Got a wild hen party**** planned? One o'clock it is. Have fun.**

Alicia wanted to tear the parchment into shreds. At the same time, she wanted to kiss it. George was so bloody arrogant, assuming she'd be off with the girls, yet cute, trying to get her to confirm it. In truth she had no plans. She would start making them right after she sent her lover a message.

**Thanks. It's a mixed group, which should be fun. I haven't been dancing in ages.**** See you Sunday! **

She stroked yellow-white feathers as she slipped the note inside the carrier case strapped to the avian leg. "Thank you for flying the extra distance. I appreciate it."

The owl clapped his wings together, uttering a low-pitched cry before taking off.

Alicia startled when Zoe ran into the office. "Did I hear the courtship call of the short-eared owl?" the girl asked breathlessly.

"No. You heard a messenger owl preparing to fly away."

"A goodbye call? No. Short-eared owls don't have the vocabulary long-eared ones do," said Zoe, in a how-silly-of-you-not-to-know-that tone. "Males have a _chef-chef_ call when they're under threat, but I distinctly heard _Voo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"_ She sighed heavily. "Orlando, my short-eared friend, expects me to hoot with him during mating season. If I don't...Merlin! There's no living with him."

"It isn't mating season."

Zoe blew a breath that made her long fringe fly up. "Tell that to Orlando! He thinks mating season is nine months long." Her dark eyes widened. "If your owl was human-imprinted too, he may have taken a fancy to your voice. Best start practising your hoots."

It was all Alicia could do not to laugh. "I'm not going to say _Voo-hoo-hoo _to a species-confused owl!"

"Well, there is one more call you could use, although your neighbours might think you have ghosts." Zoe dropped her voice. "_Boo-boo-boo!"_

"I have to go run errands. I'll be back in less than an hour." Alicia rushed out of the shop with Zoe's "Short-eared owls are diurnal, you know! They like to hoot day and night!" ringing in her ears. She was still giggling when she entered Flourish and Blott's.

"Alicia, up here!"

Vicky was shelving books on the first floor. Alicia begged the pardon of an elderly wizard as she squeezed past him on the stairs, quickly joining her friend. A customer was browsing nearby. She waited until the woman meandered down a different aisle to ask, "What are your plans Saturday night?"

"That's two days away. You know I don't plan that far ahead. Why?"

"I want to go dancing."

Sandy-blonde eyebrows shot up. "I thought you didn't want me to set you up with David?"

"I don't," Alicia said, "but if he came along with a group of friends, I'd talk to him."

Vicky smiled like a pixie. "And dance with him?"

"Since you never let me lead—ouch!" Alicia rubbed her arm, even though her friend's pinch hadn't really hurt. "Sure."

"Fabulous!" Vicky shelved the book in her hands and hugged Alicia. "I've been waiting for you to come out of your hermit phase. Maybe now the rumours will die down."

"What rumours?"

Vicky blinked. "Did I say rumours? I meant—oh, Hades, stop giving me that look." She held up her hands. "I've told anyone who'll listen that you're not in mourning for Fred Weasley, but everyone knows you and the twins had lunch regularly until...the battle, and somehow it's got round about that time you and Fred snuggled up after Quidditch practice. People wonder if you two were having a secret affair."

Alicia was the one blinking now, in shock. "We weren't _snuggling. _He fell asleep! I was nice enough not to push Fred off my shoulder." Actually, she had seen the looks George threw her way and hoped to make him jealous. She said, "Who do you mean by _people?" _

"Oh, the usual gang of young and underpaid shop employees. Whoever doesn't show at the Gnome and Jarvey on Fridays after work becomes the topic of conversation. You know that," Vicky said chidingly. "It's tradition." She paused, and then said, "They might stop gossiping if you give my cousin a chance."

"I said I'd talk to him and dance with him."

Vicky's expression lightened. "So you did. Brilliant! I'll owl David and spread the word tomorrow night at the pub."

Alicia smiled, but the voice of reason she'd ignored earlier asked if she knew what she was getting herself into. _Of course I don't, _Alicia thought. _But since when has that stopped me?_

-

Fleur was an excellent cook. George knew better than to praise the Chateaubriand with Béarnaise sauce too highly. His mum's lips tightened whenever Dad, Bill, or Percy complimented a dish. He did tell his sister-in-law that perfume on the invitation was a nice touch.

Bill's snort received a frown from his wife. "Why do you do zat?" Fleur's eyes welled with tears. "You do not like my _parfum_?"

George smiled innocently when his brother glared at him.

"I love your perfume," Bill said. "It's your skin. Everything smells good on you."

"_En vérité_?"

"_La __vérité absolue,_"said Bill.

While his brother reassured his wife that he spoke the truth, Percy and his girlfriend Penelope smiled into each other's eyes. George looked away from both sets of lovebirds. His dad was smiling indulgently, but his mother wore an expression that reminded George of Ginny. Mum seemed ready to mime gagging over her Chateau potatoes. When her eyes met his, he winked.

She surprised him by winking back.

After dinner, the group moved down to the basement to play darts. Percy suggested they play "Killer," a family favourite. George hit two when it was his turn to throw. He looked forward to hitting his number five times and becoming a "killer" who could take away other players' lives by hitting their numbers. He knew who he would take out first. Percy, Mr. Unlucky Thirteen.

It was easier said than done. George tried to keep his mind on the match, but it was useless. He kept thinking about Alicia, out with her "mixed group." What was she wearing? Who was she dancing with?

Fleur giggled at some comment of Bill's. George scowled. Was some bloke whispering in Alicia's ear, trying to make her giggle—hoping to take her home?

He jumped when a hand patted his shoulder. "It's your turn, son."

Everyone was staring at him in concern. George backed away. "Sorry. There's someplace I need to be." He smiled at Fleur. "Thanks for dinner. It was delicious."

"Where do you need to be at this time of night?" his mother said sharply. "You're not still doing business with Mundungus, are you?"

"No, Mum."

"But you are meeting someone," said Percy.

George made a mental note to send an office-warming _gift _to his brother's office: something smelly. "Yes, I'm meeting someone." _As soon as I track her down._

"Who?" Bill's voice dared him to tell the truth.

George had never been able to resist a dare. "My lover," he said, right before Apparation.

-

* * *

A/N: Bet the rule about gossip goes for Weasleys, too. Whoever isn't there gets talked about. :D. Since Muggles are known to give pubs animal names like the Duck and Dog, I decided to go mythical. The Jarvey (resembles an overgrown ferret) chases gnomes. If anyone's wondering, the stuff about human-imprinted owls isn't fiction. Truth is much stranger, sometimes! (hums People Are Strange by The Doors) 

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the story last chapter...**40/16, alatariel5079, Albus Severus, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Born Mischievous, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, cream-cheese-girl, Eruaphadriel, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, GraysonGirl , High Snow Lord of the Blowland, lbf1412, Lieu of Flowers, Lillith Evans, lyin', Machiavelli Jr, MBP, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, Nanda Weasley, Nesha227, RahNee, sofia666, Sophia Loren, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, **and **worldsapart.**


	5. Dance with Me

-

George expected to find Alicia within a half hour. After all, there weren't that many Diagon Alley pubs.

She wasn't in any of them.

Following the unsuccessful search, George entered Knockturn Alley with a scowl on his face. The place wasn't safe in the daytime, much less at night. Half the illumination lamps didn't work. Dodgy types thronged the street. What was she thinking?

On cue, he heard "Fred's" laughing voice. _I reckon she's thinking there's safety in numbers, and no Dark wizard's going to attack a group of shop clerks!_

"Shut up," said George.

A wizard asking each passer-by to "Give a Galleon for an ex-prisoner of Azkaban" heard him and fell silent.

_Seems there's safety in acting like a right nutter, too. Keep up the barmy good work, brother!_

George made a growling noise in his throat.

The beggar scuttled down the pavement to sit in front of a shop selling giant spiders.

Determined to find Alicia, George strode toward the nearest pub. He didn't find her inside the Guts for Garters, but he did discover smooth, dark Caribbean rum. In the Disturbed Spirit, he had a shot of whisky before asking the barkeep if a group of young witches and wizards had passed by.

"Ya mean loike yourself?"

The hag sitting next to George cackled.

He edged away from her, nodding.

The grizzled barkeep said, "I saw a group loike ya describe 'eadin' toward The Sleazy Kneazle an 'our ago."

"Thanks."

George headed for a large, rectangular building situated three doors down from the poisonous candle shop. Inside the pub smelling of incense sticks and other, less pleasing aromas, Knockturn Alley regulars and wide-eyed tourists packed the tables. While some groups talked loudly to be heard over the band, others watched the dancers crowded onto the floor in the back.

Alicia was one of the dancers.

George fought the urge to march over and drag her out of the pub, away from the bloke who moved awkwardly to the edgy rock music. Instead, he pushed through the throng at the bar.

Firewhisky in hand, he manoeuvred his way to a spot of unoccupied wall next to the dance floor. He sipped the whisky, eyes glued to the woman swaying to the pulse-pounding rhythm.

In the darkened room, with most others dressed in black, Alicia stood out in her plain white cotton vest and denim jeans. George's eyes narrowed as he watched a thin strap slide down her shoulder. She looked way too sexy. The bloke looming over Alicia was probably staring down her shirt and hoping the other shoulder strap would fall. George's hand tightened around his glass. _Push that damn strap back up or I'll come over there and do it for you, _he thought.

She continued to dance, moving in a way that drew attention to creamy, bared skin.

On his way to the dance floor, George set his glass on a table. The warlock sitting there picked up the whisky and downed it, mumbling, "Keep 'em comin'."

George's lips twitched with reluctant humour as he continued toward Alicia.

-

David Frobisher was a nice man. Tall and clean cut, he volunteered at St. Mungo's and had a pet owl named Elizabeth. He even had an interesting hobby: rowing. His rowing club was very social, sponsoring wine tasting and curry nights. Once a month, they held Sunday lunch. Co-incidentally, the next day was _the _day for lunch at the club.

The meaningful smile David gave Alicia while sharing the information had prompted her to suggest the group leave the Leaky Cauldron and pub-crawl down Knockturn Alley. She had hoped Vicky's cousin would be dismayed and go home.

He had enthusiastically seconded the notion.

For someone who played backgammon in a club bar on nights he wasn't reading to hospital patients or spending quality time with an owl, David wasn't stuffy the way Alicia had anticipated. He didn't glance nervously around as they strolled into the alley. He even gave a few Galleons to a beggar.

She didn't want to go out with him, but spending time with David made her want to introduce him to someone who might: Zoe. By the time they reached The Sleazy Kneazle, Alicia was trying to think of a way to introduce the two.

When David asked her to dance, she agreed, ignoring Vicky's non-subtle encouragement to "go for it!" Once on the dance floor, she realised the band was much too loud for her to try to talk. She danced, trying not to breathe deeply. The air was a mix of sweat, clashing perfumes, and body odour. Every time David bent down to say something like "Do you enjoy this kind of music?" Alicia couldn't help but think of how much better she and George fit together. She didn't get a crick in her neck looking up at him, and he didn't have to become a hunchback to look her in the eyes.

The bass thudding through her body reminded her of George, too. He made her heart pound and her body throb in ways no music ever could. Alicia couldn't help but wish he was her dance partner. She wished it so much that when she caught sight of the man walking onto the dance floor, she thought she was imagining things.

She wasn't. It was George! Alicia felt almost light-headed with joy.

Her smile froze when he stood in front of her, his eyes dark and intense. She waited for him to tell David that he was cutting in, to say something, anything. He didn't speak a word. George only pushed her shoulder strap up and walked away.

Alicia stared after him.

"What was that about?" David shouted over the music.

"I need to find out," she said. "I'll see you later." Alicia plunged into the crowd of dancers, following George. He was wearing black, but that Weasley red hair was a beacon, even in semi-darkness.

She weaved around couples, breaking into a run when she saw George enter a narrow corridor. "Wait," she called.

He turned. "What?"

His stony expression made her stomach twist. Why was George so angry? She'd been having a dance, not snogging. She took a steadying breath. "Tell me what's wrong."

-

George was jealous, that's what was wrong, but he wasn't about to admit it. He shrugged. "I need to piss, if you don't mind."

She caught his arm when he made to enter the men's toilet. "I do mind. You come here, you...you're so—I don't even know how to describe it. Why are you acting this way?

"What's the matter? Night not going according to plan?"

Her eyes widened.

"It wasn't hard to figure out that you set this up," he said, laughing shortly.

Alicia bit her lip. "I'll admit it was my idea for the group to go out, but I never expected—"

"—me to show? I find that hard to believe." He looked her up and down. "Especially the way you're dressed."

She shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

He wasn't buying her act of doe-eyed confusion. "You know _exactly _what I mean." George slipped a finger beneath her flimsy vest strap. The thought of another man touching her was maddening. He yanked the strap down. "Since you worked so hard to provoke a reaction, the least I can do is give it to you."

Her lips parted on a gasp. George immediately took advantage, pulling Alicia into his arms and slanting is mouth over hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss, coaxing a response. It was possessive and devouring.

When she squirmed against him, he groaned. "Alicia." Dimly, he heard a door off the corridor open and close.

"_Alicia!" _a woman shrieked.

George's eyes flew open. A blonde in a black halter dress stood gawking at them.

"Bridget, it isn't what you think," said Alicia.

The other woman continued to look stunned. "You're having it off with your dead lover's identical twin?"

George's jaw dropped.

"No!" cried Alicia, "It was never Fred. It was always George."

"_Oh..._" Bridget smiled weakly. "I'll, um, leave you two to your—" She broke off as a warlock staggered past them to the men's toilet. "—privacy."

"She can't wait to share the juicy gossip," said Alicia.

The wobble in her voice made George feel even more the bastard. He had seen the surprised happiness in Alicia's smile when she saw him. She might have tried to make him jealous, but she hadn't been trying to manipulate him into a night out with her friends. "Dance with me," he said.

"Don't you have to use the...erm...toilet?"

She let him see her naked and yet looked embarrassed over mentioning bodily functions. A smile crossed his face. "No. I didn't want to admit I'd taken the wrong corridor when looking for the back exit."

He didn't get the giggle he'd expected. "You don't have to—"

"Yes, I do," he said, taking her hand. "I have an unofficial family motto to uphold." He tugged her into motion.

"Unofficial?"

"Weasleys don't have an official motto, so whenever we feel inspired, the family comes up with unofficial ones." He led her around the edges of the dance floor, stopping when he saw Bridget gesturing wildly to a group of people clustered around a table.

"What's your motto?"

The ability to sound worried while yelling was a talent his mum would envy. He grinned. "Give them something to talk about!"

Other dancers were moving in time to the pounding music. George drew Alicia into his arms and slow danced. He felt her silent giggles as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Keeping a straight face, he asked, "What's so amusing? All these people out of step? Cruel wench. You should pity them."

"I do," she said. "I pity every woman who isn't me."

The sincerity in her voice was troubling. Alicia should have hexed him for acting like an arse. Why didn't she? Why did she put up with him?

_It was always George._

He didn't want to think about what she'd said. If it was true, if she'd always had a thing for him, then Alicia might care too much. To avoid dealing with emotions he couldn't handle, he kept things physical, lifting her face with his hands for a kiss.

-

Alicia found George sexy when he was dark and brooding, but when he was sweet, he melted her heart. She didn't need soft words to know that he cared. He proved it by the way he caressed her as if she was precious and fragile, and the tenderness of his kiss.

She twined her arms around his neck. His nibbling kisses were driving her crazy. She wanted to feel them on her throat, her body. However much she wanted those teasing lips to snog her senseless, Alicia didn't try to deepen the embrace. The thought of an avid audience wasn't what held her back. It was George.

He was chuckling, deep in his throat. That roguish sound brought back memories of two brothers returning to the Gryffindor common room after an escapade. She'd missed that sound, and the impish smile that would crease George's face when he caught her eye.

The song ended. They continued to sway. George said, "Do you want to say goodbye to your friends before we leave?"

Her mind felt cloudy with desire. "Leave? Yes, please."

He laughed and steered her toward the group watching them raptly.

-

Two days later, Alicia was ringing up a sale when Molly Weasley came into the shop. The bag she held slipped out of her fingers. Luckily, the customer caught the orb before it hit the floor. While the man brushed away her apologies with a polite nod, Mrs. Weasley bustled over to examine the display of interior illumination orbs.

Alicia was tempted to feign illness and not return for the rest of the day. George's mother never shopped The Light Fantastic. At an Order meeting, she'd apologetically admitted to purchasing her orbs from a discount club.

"Alicia, dear! I have a question for you!" Molly called from across the shop.

All the blood seemed to rush from Alicia's head. What was the question? Are you sleeping with my son? Do you use birth control? What are your intentions? She took her time walking over. "Yes, ma'am?"

Molly pointed to a small orb. "Would it be possible to fit that inside a Muggle desk lamp? Arthur's been working so hard at the Ministry he hardly has time to putter around in his workshop. I thought he'd find it cheering to have a bit of Muggle-ness in his office."

"Oh, yes," said Alicia, smiling widely in relief. "I enjoy doing custom lighting, so if you bring in the lamp, I'll cast the spells free of charge with the purchase of the orb."

Molly's eyes twinkled. "Any chance of a discount?"

It was as though the air had been sucked out of the room. Alicia said, "Because...because of—"

"Because of the Order, yes." Molly looked closely at her. "What did you think I meant, dear?"

-

* * *

- 

A/N: Nice views from cliffs, aren't there? Any resemblance between David's wizard rowing club and a Muggle one is purely coincidental…and perhaps due to the fact that I used information from the Thames Rowing Club website. :D. I used the Diagon Alley map off the HP-Lexicon website to envision the pub-crawl. It was considerate of Jo not to list every business. ;) The readers who considerately reviewed last week were...**40/16, alix33, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, centaursaremyfriends, cream-cheese-girl, ElspethBates, Eruaphadriel, Evo422, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, High Snow Lord of the Blowland, Io.sono.Emilia, lbf1412, lyin', Machiavelli Jr, michellegurl, MollyCoddles, Moontime, PhoenixDreamer55, QuieraStrawberry9, RahNee, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, sofia666, Sophia Loren, sunny9847, taliapony, tambrathegreat, TheDBoyLover, The Happy Stalker Ball, The Sugarfaerie, VioletPastPrime, **and **worldsapart.**

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	6. Motherly Love

-

Alicia's mind went blank. "What?"

Molly frowned. "I said, what did you think I meant, dear?"

_I thought you meant __I'd give you a discount because you're George's mum, but I'm not about to tell you that! _Alicia decided that her best defence was scattiness. She said, "About what?"

"About the discount."

"The discount?"

"Yes," snapped Molly. "_Is _there a discount?"

"I can't remember."

The look of irritation on the motherly face melted into concern. "Good heavens, were you hit with a Memory Charm during the battle?" She patted Alicia's arm. "Healing takes time, but I think you're doing marvellously." Molly glanced around before saying, "Gilderoy Lockhart is _still _not fully recovered. When I attended the signing of his latest book, _Letters of Love: Fans Share Stories of How I Have Touched Their Lives;_ I could not convince him that my name is Molly. He _insisted _on calling me Gladys."

"I'm sorry," said Alicia, starting to wish she'd blurted "I'm dating George," and dealt with whatever reaction followed.

"As am I. It's quite ruined my collection to have a book signed 'To Gladys.'"

"My mum has all his books too," said Alicia. "I'll ask her about any possible specials."

Molly beamed. "Thank you, dear."

Alicia smiled weakly, fighting the urge to run. She walked briskly. By the time she reached the office, she was sprinting.

"What's wrong?" said her mother.

Alicia took a deep breath. "Molly Weasley's in the shop. She knows George is seeing someone, but she doesn't know it's me, so to keep her from finding out I accidentally gave her the impression that I was hit with a Memory Charm during the battle of Hogwarts."

Anne looked as though she were fighting a smile. "Anything else?"

"She's a huge Gilderoy Lockhart fan and she'd like a discount on an illumination orb. Could you give her one, please?

"Of course." Her mum chuckled. "Anything for a sister in fandom, but why don't you give her the discount? She's your customer."

"I need to tell George what happened."

Anne arched an eyebrow. "George needs to tell his family exactly who he's dating. It will come out, sooner or later."

"Right now, I'd sooner it be later."

Alicia smiled when her mother came around the desk to give her a hug.

"Go on," said Anne. "Slip out the back. I'll take care of Molly."

After Apparating to the rear entrance of number ninety-three, Alicia tapped on the door the way George told her signalled family and friends. _Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap…rap, rap!_

A house-elf answered. "May I help you, Miss?"

"I need to speak with George."

"Regarding...?"

Her face felt hot. "A personal matter."

She had never seen a house-elf smile from ear-to-ear before. They seemed to have more teeth than humans did.

"Right this way, Miss. Follow Caper."

Alicia looked around with interest, taking in the white paint that was such a contrast to the warm, bright colours of the main shop. The walls were bare, as though only public areas merited the effort of decoration.

"Wait here; Miss. Caper will fetch Mr. George."

The office was cluttered in a nice way, the walls covered with framed reviews and "grand opening" photographs. Alicia remembered one of George's rare letters, inviting her to come by his new shop. He had been so adorably proud; she had kissed the parchment and smiled every time she heard it rustle inside her pillowcase.

She dropped into the chair behind the desk and settled back, feeling like a love-struck schoolgirl thrilled to sit where her crush sat every day. She placed her hands on the padded arms of the chair. _He puts his hands here. Lucky chair! _She caressed the leather, laughed, and gave the chair a spin.

-

George was pleasantly surprised to hear that Alicia was waiting in his office. He said, "Thank you, Caper. I'll leave the shop in your capable hands while I see to my…visitor."

_Visitor, right... _"Fred's" voice echoed in his mind. _Like Caper didn't catch that randy gleam in your eye. Go on. Tell him you're not to be disturbed. Maybe then you'll finally have a chance at winning that 'sex in the office' bet we once made!_

_The bet's null and void, _George thought, strolling toward the "employees only" door.

He found Alicia leaning back in his chair with her eyes closed. Her feet were propped up on the desk. Shapely legs were crossed at the ankles. As he watched, a dreamy smile played across her lips.

"Thinking of me?" he said.

Her eyes popped open. "Oh!" She set her feet on the floor and rose, tugging down the hem of her skirt. "That's...uh...a very comfortable chair."

George closed the door. "Does that mean you _weren't _thinking about me?"

The pink of Alicia's cheeks set off her fair skin. "I imagined you getting comfy in the chair and then, well, acted it out."

He moved closer. "Did you imagine anything else?"

Her blush deepened. "I did picture you, sitting in the chair, with me."

George turned on his heel and locked the door. In less than three strides he was behind the desk and tugging Alicia onto his lap. "Like this?"

She nodded.

_Look at those bedroom eyes! If you don't win the bet you don't deserve to call yourself a Weasley!_

George smiled. He was a Weasley, through and through. He brushed his mouth across Alicia's eyebrows, her cheek. "Were we kissing?"

She glanced away. "You were...erm...nibbling my earlobe and whispering..."

He put his lips to her ear. "What was I whispering?"

Alicia shivered. "You said my name, and that's where my fan—it ended."

George gave her neck a soft love bite and worked his way up to her ear. "That wasn't gentlemanly of me, ruining your fantasy." He grazed her lobe with his tongue. "I have to make it up to you."

Her fingers sifted through his hair. "Only if you want to."

He pressed short kisses to her lips. "Believe me, I want to."

Their kisses became deep and sensuous. George unbuttoned Alicia's blouse from the hem upward, taking the time to caress each bit of skin exposed before undoing a new button. When he reached the clasp of her bra, she said, "I need to tell you something."

"What?" he replied absently, still intent upon the clasp.

"It's about your mother."

"My _mother_?"

There was the sound of a door handle jiggling. An imperious knock sounded. "George Weasley, if you've jinxed this door...!"

Alicia stared at him with huge eyes. "Your mother's here!"

"How did you know?"

"I didn't," whispered Alicia. "She was there—at my shop. That's what I was going to tell you."

"George! Why don't you answer? Have you taken ill? I will _blast_ this door down if you do not open it immediately!"

"Just a moment, Mum. I'm washing my hands! I was in the toilet!" George yelled. He said in a low tone to Alicia. "Use a Disillusionment Charm. We'll talk after I get rid of her."

The moment she stepped back against a wall and "disappeared," he opened the door. "Hullo, Mum. Does Dad know you're out spending his new pay rise?"

He was standing in the doorway, but his mother didn't take the hint. She pushed past him and sat down in a visitor's chair. "How do you know I've been shopping?"

George ambled over to sit on the edge of the desk. "This is Diagon Alley. Why else would you come here?"

"Perhaps I came to see you." His mother sat up straighter, as if to remind George that no matter how tall he was, he was still subject to parental authority.

He said, "Thanks, Mum. I'm doing fine, keeping busy."

"With your lover?"

Crikey, he hadn't expected her to throw that in his face! George fought the urge to glance toward the spot Alicia was standing. "Yes."

His mum wrapped both hands around the strap of her shoulder bag. "Does this person have a name?"

Was she planning to clout him if he didn't answer? George sincerely hoped not. When they were young, he and Fred would entertain themselves during Healer appointments by sorting through the contents of that very same pocket bag. If she still carried around the huge "lucky rock" they painted for her at age five, he was in trouble. "Yes, she does."

His mother's eyes became slits. "Aren't you going to tell me?"

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. What had Alicia said to her? He could feel his own eyes narrow in suspicion. "Don't you already know?"

Her smile was inscrutable. "Confirmation would be nice."

"Would it?" he said. "I think respect for privacy would be nicer."

A look of deep frustration crossed his mother's face. "_Why _are you being so difficult? Is it really too much to ask for a mother to become acquainted with her son's partner?"

"Alicia isn't my partner."

There was an audible intake of breath. If Alicia was responsible, George hoped she hadn't taken what he said the wrong way. Fred had been his partner in the shop, and now he was gone. If that was some cosmic precedence, he refused to put the label on anyone else.

If his mother had made the noise, she recovered swiftly. "Whatever you young people call each other nowadays, Alicia is a lovely girl. I can't understand why you didn't bring her with you to Shell Cottage."

He strode over to the door. "I know you can't. That's why I'm not going to try to explain. It should be enough that I choose to keep my private life private."

"Oh, George." His mum shook her head. "I only want you to be happy."

"I know you do, but it isn't like the old days." He tried to joke, "It takes more than finding a packet of sherbet lemons in your hand bag."

Her face crumpled. George thought she might burst into tears. _Don't do it, _he prayed. _For Merlin's sake don't cry! _She opened her bag and took out a distinctive yellow packet, pressing it into his hands. "If only it was that simple. I'd give anything..."

"Thanks, Mum," he said gruffly.

She nodded. "I believe I'll stop by your father's office and ask him out to tea."

"Sounds good." He escorted her to the front entrance. When George returned to the office, he found Alicia standing beside the enchanted window. Her blouse was buttoned. He said, "The view seems real, doesn't it? Like you could climb through and be on an island in the Caribbean."

"Yes," she whispered, "but it isn't real. It's an illusion."

His stomach twisted to see a tear slip down her face.

-

Alicia released a shaky breath, determined not to break down. It wouldn't change the way George felt. "I'd better get back to the shop."

"Why? Was it that crack I made about you not being my partner? I didn't mean anything by it."

The truth was hard to face. "Yes, you did."

George said, "It's just that when I think of a partner—" He looked away, jaw tight.

"I know." It reminded him of Fred. "What about 'girlfriend'?" she said. "How do you feel about that word?"

His gaze was wary. "What do you mean?"

Here it was. The question she'd been putting off for weeks. "Am I your girlfriend?"

George seemed at a loss for words.

She said, "I think of myself as your girlfriend. Someone you spend time with outside of bed, but...do you feel the same way? Do you think of us as being in a relationship, or are we only lovers?"

He dragged a hand through his hair. "Why do women have to analyse everything?"

"Why can't you just say how you feel?"

"I don't know how I feel!"

George looked as angry and miserable as he had that morning she'd seen him at King's Cross. Had all the time they'd spent together meant nothing? Alicia's vision became blurry with tears. "Okay."

She found her way to the door blocked. "_Okay? _What does that mean?"

"It means all right, I understand, so let me go." The only way she could keep her composure was to avert her gaze from his. She focused on George's wizard robes. Two of the buttons she'd undone had been refastened into the wrong buttonholes. It was very noticeable. _Oh gods_, _what his mother must have thought!_

"Don't cry."

His husky tone opened the floodgates of emotion. "I can't help it, George," she said brokenly. "I care about you, a—and it hurts."

"I'm sorry."

When she moved to toward the door, he let her go.

Alicia was too upset to Apparate. She had to walk down the alley, trying to hold back sobs, clutching her sides because they hurt so much. At the shop, she avoided her mother, waving Zoe over to say that she was ill and would be taking the rest of the day off.

Only when she reached the privacy of her room did Alicia feel free to cry her heart out.

-

* * *

- 

A/N: He didn't win the bet and now his family knows who he's been dating and he has to deal with Alicia caring about him and asking how he feels about her. I feel sorry for George, while wanting to give him a kick in the arse. Lucky me, I get to give him a hug and a kick next chapter.

New readers won't know the difference, heh, but I made a small change to the first chapter. The line where Bill says "Fleur's pregnant" now has "It's a boy" tacked to the end. Why? Because if the baby was Victoire, she would be 18 going on 19 in her seventh year, and I don't want to upset any readers good at mental math...or think up a reason why they would hold her back a year. :D

I won't whine about my hectic week (I usually update two fics on Fridays but this week only got this one done) but I will thank the readers who reviewed the last chapter. Thanks and hugs to **40/16, alix33, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Born Mischievous, Bright Green Eyes, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, cream-cheese-girl, ElspethBates, Eruaphadriel, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, galicianphantom, GraceRichie, heyyodude, Lieu of Flowers, lyin', MollyCoddles, Moontime, Nanda Weasley, PhoenixDreamer55, QuieraStrawberry9, RahNee, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Sophia Loren, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, TheDBoyLover, The Happy Stalker Ball, Slipknot-3113, The Sugarfaerie, Sunshine Spray, TessieIII, ToImagine- ToDream- ToLive, **and **VioletPastPrime**


	7. Breaking the Habit

-

When Alicia left, George almost ran after her. It wasn't that he didn't care, or she was asking for a ring and a twee cottage next to Fleur and Bill's. She only wanted him to define their relationship.

Something wouldn't let him do it, so he stood and watched her go.

Feeling like a bastard, George strode into the shop and told Caper to take a break. He hoped that assisting customers would help him shut out emotions to focus on business.

He hoped in vain. Sod's Law ensured that nothing but couples came into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Whether they made eyes at each other or looked on the verge of a fight, each pair triggered memories. Alicia smiling at him, Alicia laughing at something he said, Alicia watching him with an anxious expression on her face. Each memory stung like a hex.

At the end of the workday, when Caper had begun to restock the shelves and George was about to close shop, two last-minute customers entered.

Vicky Frobisher and Kenneth Towler had smiled politely when he escorted Alicia over to their table at the Sleazy Kneazle. They weren't smiling now.

"Good afternoon," said George. "There's a house special if you're interested. Former Gryffindors who buy a Patented Daydream Charm get one free!" He gestured to a display of colourful boxes.

Vicky eyed the daydream of a knight and maiden on horseback before shaking her head. "We didn't come here to buy anything."

That meant they were there to talk about Alicia. A distraction was in order. "Never underestimate the satisfaction gained from impulse shopping," said George, picking up a miniature puffskein.

The creature's high-pitched squeak successfully diverted Vicky's attention. She said, "They come in blue now?"

"At customer request. Not everyone is fond of pink and purple." He handed her the Pygmy Puff.

Vicky stroked the midnight-blue fur. "I hate pink. My mother forced me into too many frilly dress robes as a child."

Kenneth frowned. "Didn't you wear pink robes to the Yule Ball?"

The petite woman glared up at her brawny partner. "Didn't we come here to talk about something else?" She turned her fierce gaze on George. "What have you done to Alicia?" Before he could speak, she jabbed a finger at him. "Don't tell me 'nothing'! I saw her crying earlier, and a few minutes ago, when I went to check on her, Mrs. Spinnet said she's taken ill and can't be disturbed!"

George had a flashback to Hogwarts days, when the sight of an angry girl was scarier than a teacher bent on giving detention. It wasn't due to the jinxes he received for allowing someone's little brother to test a Puking Pastille or Nosebleed Nougat. It was the drama that went with it. "I'm sorry," he said.

Vicky looked ready to attempt Muggle duelling. "You're _sorry?" _

He nodded. "I'm sorry you're upset, but I can't talk about Alicia."

"Can't or won't?" snapped Vicky.

"Both."

Her face turned red. "Kenneth!"

George eyed the other man warily. If a Shield Hat had been within reach, he would have grabbed it. He tensed, ready to duck a fist or cast a _Protego_.

Kenneth noted his reaction with a half smile. "You may not know this, but Oliver asked me to try for Beater. I didn't, because I don't like to hit people." His expression hardened. "That doesn't mean I can't."

"I'm sure."

When the two left the shop, George exhaled in relief.

_Felt like you dodged a Bludger, eh? Look on the bright side. The__y purchased a Pygmy Puff and the Daydream Charms! _

George had something else on his mind. "I never knew Wood asked Towler to try for Beater."

_Pricks the ego, doesn't it? _

"Yes."

"Did you say something, sir?" asked Caper.

George had forgotten that the house-elf was there. "Talking to myself," he said, going through the motions of closing shop. If he was honest, the jab to his ego was nothing compared to the beating his conscience was giving him. It was his fault the situation with Alicia had become such a mess. Hadn't he told himself that a good girl with a great body equalled trouble?

_Maybe you like trouble. _

There was paperwork to do, but George had a more pressing need: Firewhisky. He followed Caper to the back entrance.

"Off to see family, sir?" the elf said cheerfully.

George's smile was grim. "Off to the pub."

Most patrons of the Bat and Bludger were social types who congregated at the front and near the bar. George settled into the back corner booth, ordering a bottle of Ogden's Best.

"Drinking alone again?" his server asked.

_Tell her you've got an invisible friend. I dare you._

George continued to pour Firewhisky. "Yes."

"Does that mean you're available?" Her tone was flirtatious.

He looked up. Somewhere in her mid-twenties, the woman was spell-tanned and fit. Most blokes in the place would think they'd struck lucky. George sipped his drink. "No."

"Too bad." She strolled over to serve another customer.

He finished the shot and poured another one, somehow unsurprised when Bill slid onto the bench opposite.

"I thought I might find you here."

George traced the edge of the glass with his fingertip. "Who do I have to thank for the brotherly advice you're about to give? Mum?"

"No. Dad's Patronus caught me on the way out of Gringotts."

"Bloody weasel." George tossed back another round.

Bill plucked the bottle off the table. "Silvery weasel and a damned fine one."

"Give that back."

"Give me a straight answer."

George laughed shortly. "What's the question?"

"Was Alicia in the office while Mum was there?"

"Yes."

Bill set the bottle down with a thud. "In that case, drink up. I'm sure you need it."

Contrarily, George no longer felt like drinking. "Why's that?"

"Besides the fact that you made a complete and utter arse of yourself?" Bill shrugged. "Booze is a way to forget guilt for awhile."

"How would you know?"

"After the battle, Percy spent many a night on my sofa."

"Passed out?" George stared, trying to imagine the Humongous Bighead rat-arsed.

One side of Bill's mouth pulled up. "Fleur fell in love with the pattern, but the sofa's not comfortable enough for anyone to sleep on it sober."

"Well, what do you know," said George. "Making jokes, getting pissed as a newt—the git formerly known as 'Weatherby' might not be adopted after all."

Bill's expression became stern. "Percy is our brother, and he's mourned Fred as much as the rest of us."

"Has he?" George had his doubts.

Growing up, Percy had been the one brother Fred and George rarely invited to join them in a prank. The few times they did, he went running to their parents. At school, he acted as though they were trying to ruin his chances of Head Boyship, and after he left Hogwarts, Percy walked on the other side of the street to avoid the shop and the brothers who apparently embarrassed him by their mere existence.

"Yes," said Bill. "If you'd listen to what he has to say—"

"No, thanks." George slid out of the booth. "Got to piss." He walked in the direction of the toilet and, once out of sight, headed out the back exit. Before he could take a step, a hand grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. Pushed face first against the brick wall, a Body Bind Curse immobilised George before he could cast a spell in his defence.

"Did you really think that would work?" growled a voice by his ear.

George wished he could groan. A mugger would take his money and leave. His big brother would lecture.

"The next time you try to give someone the slip, make sure there's an Anti-Apparation jinx on the place." A _Mobilicorpus _spell turned George around. "Your ears and brain aren't petrified, so listen up and let what I say sink into your thick skull." Bill took a deep breath. Instead of launching into a rant, he sighed heavily. "I want what's best for you. I want you to be happy. So does every other Weasley, including Percy."

He placed his hands on George's shoulders. "Stop avoiding your friends and family. Nobody's forcing you to talk about Fred. If you're not ready, you're not ready, but we're here for you. Quit pushing us away." He stepped back. "That goes for Alicia as well." He chuckled. "Dad says to remember not every girl will pretend to have memory damage for you."

_So when I thought Mum knew about Alicia she was fishing, _George thought. Released from the _Petrificus Totalus, _he lifted a hand to gingerly touch his face. "I pushed you so you pushed me, is that it?"

Bill might not be a werewolf, but he had the wolfish grin to go along with a love of rare meat. "Nothing a little bruise-remover won't fix." He winked. "Women enjoy playing Healer."

Alicia, in mediwitch robes, with strategic buttons undone. That was a stirring image, if one with little likelihood of becoming reality. George had bollocksed things too badly. "She'd say I deserved it."

"And so you did. So what? Explain. Apologise. She'll forgive you."

George's left eye was swelling. It was hard to see. He felt the puffiness and winced. "Or she'll give me another bruise."

"Either way you'll feel better."

"I don't deserve to."

"Yes, you do." Bill placed his hands on George's shoulders. "Go see Alicia." He gave him a light shove. "Now."

"Practicing for fatherhood, are you?" George dropped the flippant tone to say seriously, "You'll be brilliant."

"Thank you."

Uncomfortable with the touchy-feely direction of the conversation, George gave a nod and Apparated.

-

Alicia woke to discover she'd slept the day away. On the way to the toilet, she glanced at the mirror. Immediately, she did a double take. Makeup streaked her face. Her eyes were almost as swollen and red from crying as her nose. She looked like hell! A shower and several complexion spells later, Alicia left her room to tiptoe into the kitchen. She was in luck. Her mum was still down in the shop.

She carried her cup of Earl Grey tea back to her room, guiltily thankful not to have to talk to her mother. Although she loved her mum, some things just couldn't be shared.

Besides, what could she say? _I know you think George and I are dating—so did I—but he's not sure we're more than lovers?_

Alicia sat on the window seat. If she looked straight across the alley, her view was only another building. If she leaned toward the window and tilted her head, she was able to watch shoppers pass by. Any other time, she would choose to people-watch. Consumed by thoughts of George, she gazed into her teacup as if the leaves could show her future.

There was an idea.

Since she hadn't bothered with a strainer, there were plenty of leaves. She had chosen a plain white teacup and saucer, so the images would be clearly visible. Why not do it?

She sipped the tea, careful not to swallow the tealeaves. It was easy to focus on a single question, because there was only one thing on her mind. How did George feel about her?

When only a couple of drops of tea remained, Alicia held the cup in her left hand and said her question aloud. She swirled the teacup seven times before turning it upside down on the saucer. After counting to seven, she flipped the cup back over. With trembling hands, she turned the handle to point towards her.

Almost not daring to breathe, she looked at the clump of leaves at the top of the cup, touching the rim. That was where Professor Trelawney had gushed matters of the heart were divined in the immediate future.

It was a sword.

Alicia couldn't remember what a sword meant. _Have patience? _she thought. _No, that's a straight line. Be careful what you say? That's a dagger. _She was about to run up to the attic to find the trunk of schoolbooks when something clattered against her window.

One of the projectiles remained on the window sill. It was a sherbet lemon. Alicia opened the window to see George standing in the alley below. "May I come up and talk to you?" he said.

The meaning of a sword finally came to mind. _What you want is within reach, but you must fight for it._

"Come up," said Alicia. She was ready to fight.

-

* * *

- 

A/N: Murphy's Law says "Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong." _Sod's Law _is that plus the interesting twist of being mocked by fate, of bad fortune tailoring itself to the individual, making him an "unlucky sod." Barty Crouch Sr. called Percy 'Weatherby' because he couldn't remember his name. I remembered that readers expected an update :D, so I perservered to finish this chapter, fighting Finagle's Law of Dynamic Negatives which states "anything that can go wrong, will—at the worst possible moment."

The readers whose reviews came at the best possible moments were...**40/16, AliciaSpinnet93, alix33, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Born Mischievous, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, cream-cheese-girl, cream tea anyone, ElspethBates, Eruaphadriel, FNP, GraceRichie, Lieu Of Flowers, mackgirl, MBP, mereschino, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, Nanda Weasley, pwlfactory, PhoenixDreamer55, potteronpotluvhim, Princess Persephone, QuieraStrawberry9, RahNee, Rana Mya, Sabrina Weasley, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Sophia Loren, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, taliapony, tambrathegreat, TessieIII, ToImagine- ToDream- ToLive, VioletPastPrime, waterdreamer, **and** worldsapart. **


	8. Something to Talk About

-

George levitated up to the window with a grace any vampire would envy. While Alicia watched him ascend, a memory stirred.

_Seventh year, with only a few weeks to go until __NEWTS, Alicia and Angelina frequently stayed in the library until it closed and then resumed their studies in the dorm. Late one night after they put away their books, Angelina whispered, "I've got a question for you." _

_Alicia glanced over at the curtains drawn around the beds of their roommates. "Make it quick. We'll get jinxed if we stay up much longer."_

_"They know better than to try. Anyway, I heard some third years going over their essay for DADA this morning, and I was wondering." Angelina paused, and then said in a rush, "If a vampire crept into your bed looking for a willing victim, who would you want it to be?"_

_"No one." That was a lie, but Alicia wasn't about to admit to having Vampire George fantasies since her own third year. Curious, she asked, "What about you?"_

_"You have to promise never to tell anyone—"_

_"I won't."_

_Angelina moved closer. "__I was in History of Magic, staring off as usual, when I had this daydream about a vampire. It was dark and intense, but Fred wasn't the one I opened the window for."_

_"Who was it?"_

_"Blaise Zabini."_

_Alicia's jaw dropped. "That __gorgeous Slytherin boy?"_

_"Yes." Angelina sounded embarrassed. "He's always given me looks, but now he—he talks to me, sometimes."_

_"What does he say?"_

_"Just...things." Angelina shrugged. "He admires strong women."_

_"Like his mother?" Alicia saw her friend's face grow stormy and hastily said, "I'm not saying she killed her husbands or that it's his fault if she did."_

_Angelina's braids swayed with the shake of her head. "I shouldn't have told you. It isn't like he'll really look me up when we're both out of school. Nothing's going to come of whatever—feelings—he thinks he has for me." She shook her head again. "Boys are fickle. Out of sight is out of mind. I learned that lesson from Fred." _

_"I'm sorry."_

_Angelina's expression turned sly. "Sorry enough to admit you'd bare your throat if George was a vampire?"_

_"No—yes—shut up." Alicia poked her friend in the side for laughing. _

_"GO TO SLEEP!" Patricia Stimpson yelled from the other side of the room._

_Alicia and Angelina smirked at each other before calling simultaneously, "Accio pillow!" _

The memory only took seconds to recall, but it was long enough for George to climb into the room. He stood staring at her with a look she'd seen in dreams.

_Alicia, I'm so cold. Let me in._

She fought the urge to hold him. "Your face," she said, latching onto the distraction. "I'll go get some bruise-remover." Alicia went to the bathroom to retrieve a jar from the medicine cupboard. She returned to find George standing beside the dresser, gazing at the Quidditch team photo from sixth year. "Do you want me to apply the paste?" she asked.

"If you don't mind," he said. "Good to see you bought the new and improved Weasley Bruise-Remover."

Alicia dipped her fingers into the thick, yellow paste. "It's good to see you," she said, "but it looks like you ran into a wall." She smoothed a thin layer of ointment over the bruises. Within seconds they began to fade.

"Courtesy of Bill."

He didn't elaborate, so she didn't ask any questions. After long, tense moments, George said, "Your friend Vicky came by the shop."

"Did she?"

"She said you'd been crying." His tone was accusing. "You don't look like you've been crying."

Alicia smiled a little. "I used several complexion charms."

"You did?"

She nodded.

George said, "I'm sorry."

She replaced the lid on the paste and stepped away. "Why?"

His head jerked back. "What?"

"You never asked me to care about you," she said. "You didn't promise me anything. Why should you feel sorry?"

George said tightly, "I'm not a user. I never wanted to hurt you."

Alicia swallowed hard. "If you used me, it was because I begged you to, and if I'm hurt, it's my fault for wanting you to care about me."

"I care."

The words sounded mumbled through stiff lips. They were beautiful to Alicia's ears. "You do?"

He hunched a shoulder. "Yeah."

Her inner schoolgirl began squealing, _Oh-my-gods, did you hear that? He cares for you! Kiss him! There's no paste on his lips! Kiss him now!_

She placed the jar on the vanity and began rearranging perfume bottles. Caring wasn't enough. She had to fight for what she truly wanted. Not looking at George helped keep her resolve. Quietly, she asked, "How much?"

Silence fell.

Alicia picked up a silver-backed mirror and immediately set it down again before he saw the way her hand was shaking.

"I—" George cleared his throat. "Why does this have to be so complicated?"

She straightened the lace vanity scarf. "It's simple to me. Either you want to be my boyfriend or you don't." She snuck a peek at George.

He was scowling. "I work long hours."

Did that mean what she thought it meant? The butterflies in her stomach fluttered their wings madly. "I know." She risked another glance.

George's expression reminded her of an obstinate little boy. "I don't want to hang out with your friends."

Alicia turned to face him squarely. "You don't have to."

He lifted his chin. "I suppose being your boyfriend means you expect me to wear dress robes and take you someplace posh?"

Joy made her giddy. "We can go to one of those Muggle restaurants that advertise 'fast food' if you prefer," Alicia said laughingly. "I heard some meals come with a toy."

"No, thanks."

When George walked toward her, Alicia could see that his bruises had almost vanished. She reached up to touch his face. He took her hand. His fingertips traced the lines on her palm. "I never believed Trelawney's twittering," he said, "but you definitely have the hand of a romantic, delicate and graceful."

Was he trying to sidetrack her from planning a date? She smiled. "Yours is a Renaissance hand, artistic and pragmatic at the same time."

He turned her hand over. "Rounded fingernails mean you are caring and sympathetic."

Had he and Fred used palmistry as a pick-up tool? She wouldn't be surprised. "Yours are square," said Alicia. "You have a good head for business."

George trailed his hand over hers. "Your middle finger is longer than the others. If I'm not mistaken, that means you take things too seriously. You need to lighten up."

She said, "Oh, really? Well your left pinkie is a lot shorter than the rest of your fingers, showing that you're stubborn and used to getting your way."

He kissed her hand. "I'm charming, though."

Alicia tried not to smile. "On occasion."

George's lips twitched. "Ouch," he said, holding her hand up to peer at it closely. "Maybe your heart line isn't as deeply etched as I thought."

"You know it is." She reached up to brush a kiss across his lips.

He stood still as she rubbed her mouth softly back and forth. Alicia braced a hand against his chest, breathing in the oddly complementary scents of lemon and Firewhisky. She longed to know how they tasted, but made herself wait. George, whether he knew it or not, had a heart line that pointed toward his middle finger. He liked to be in charge of romantic situations. While it was enjoyable to be swept off her feet, she planned to make the most of her opportunity to take the lead.

She slid her hands into his hair; enjoying the sensual pleasure of sifting the strands through her fingers. George parted his lips, tempting her to deepen the kiss. Alicia used the tip of her tongue to tease his lower lip, allowing herself to play along the edge but not to slip inside.

His fingers gripped her hips. She wriggled closer, thinking one slow, deep kiss—or two—wouldn't hurt.

She was wrong. Firewhisky and lemon tasted divine on a tongue that swirled with hers. The sensations created by her boyfriend's hands and lips made Alicia ache in a way that had only one cure. The direction George was slowly steering them in revealed his intention of providing what she needed.

Unfortunately, she couldn't let herself take it. "George, wait."

"Do you want to undress me? Feel free to rip fabric and tear off buttons." He chuckled. "Just be careful with the zipper."

Alicia had to close her eyes and remind herself that she was doing the right thing. "I can't," she said. "Not tonight."

George's brows drew together. "Is it the wrong time of the month? I thought a potion took care of that sort of thing."

"No—yes—that's not the issue." Alicia exhaled heavily.

George's eyes fell.

She jerked her gaping blouse closed. "Go home and sleep on this. I don't want you to change your mind tomorrow and say I seduced you into something you didn't want."

"Can't you seduce me and then send me home?" He tugged the edges of her blouse apart. "I promise to sleep on it then."

Instead of telling him no, Alicia said, "You do?"

"Yes. I vow by Godric Gryffindor that I'll sleep in my own bed." George drew her into his arms for an irresistibly passionate kiss.

Hours later, Alicia awoke with a start. There was a warm body pressed against her back! She sat up in bed. "George, wake up, it's five o'clock in the morning. You promised to go home!"

He sniggered sleepily. "I didn't say exactly _when, _did I?"

She slapped his roving hand away. "It had better be now or I'll douse you with a Cold-Water Charm!"

"I haven't had an official girlfriend for a single day and _already _I'm kicked out of bed." George tossed back the duvet and scooped his trousers off the floor. "Just my luck."

Alicia wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his back. "I'm not kicking you out. I only want you to go so you'll come back."

"That made perfect sense to me," said George. He turned to bury his face against her chest. "Hold me. I'm frightened."

She felt his body shake with silent laughter. "Don't make me hex you," she said, fighting giggles.

He looked up. Mischief gleamed in his eyes. "Any chance you'd use a Binding Spell and have your way with me?"

"Maybe later." She watched him dress, asking, "Will you be at the Bat and Bludger after work?"

George shook his head. "I'll be getting ready for a date with my girlfriend."

She almost pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. This was more than she had hoped for. "Anywhere you want to go is fine with me."

"Someplace posh, then." He winked. "Seven o'clock. Wear something sexy."

"The dress or the lingerie?"

George kissed her. Alicia knew it was supposed to be a goodbye kiss, but it felt more like a promise of things to come. "Both," he said, strolling to the window.

How many times had she watched him saunter down a Hogwarts corridor, wondering what prank had put George in such a good mood? And now she was the reason for the strut in his walk. Life was funny, and at that moment, absolutely amazing.

Unable to return to sleep, Alicia got out a piece of parchment and wrote an overdue letter to a friend.

_Dear Angelina,_

_I have so much to tell you..._

_-_

George could have Apparated to the shop, but chose to walk. He felt...weird...for lack of a better word, without knowing exactly why, and hoped to figure it out.

_C'mon...you know why, __brother._

"Fred's" voice had a snigger in it. George sent his eyes skyward. _I'm sure you'll tell me._

Before "Fred" could answer, a silvery lion with a thick, shaggy mane bounded through a brick wall to land at George's feet. It was Bill's Patronus! When it "roared", George heard _Come to the Faie Birthing Centre near St. Mungo's. It's in an old tax office. Walk into the side alley and say your name and Fleur's. A door will appear._

George Apparated to the street outside the hospital for magical maladies. A "relocated" sign in a nearby window snagged his attention. He jogged into the alley. "George Weasley to see Fleur Weasley," he said.

Inside the centre, he greeted his father and watched Percy attempt to console their distraught mother. "I can't take any more heartache," Molly wailed.

Percy shot George a 'help me out, will you?' look.

George sat down and began to flip through a _Cosmopolitan Witch _magazine. As far as he was concerned, his brother was experiencing payback for all the times he'd made their mother cry. Two informative articles later, Bill strode into the waiting room. He held up his hands for quiet. "The midwitch said dehydration and stress were causing the contractions. It's called 'uterine irritability' and doesn't usually lead to pre-term labour, but she's putting Fleur on bed rest for the next two weeks to be safe."

Molly clasped her hands to her heart. "Thank the stars."

"Thank George," said Bill. "If he doesn't mind guests. Midwitch Leach okayed Fleur leaving the centre if she'll stay nearby."

"Of course he doesn't mind!" Molly said stoutly. "You can have Fred's old room."

"NO!" The word tore from George's lips. Everyone stared. He told Bill, "It's a mess. Take my room."

"If that's the way you want it," said Bill. "Thanks."

George forced a smile. "You're welcome."

-

* * *

- 

A/N: Another week, another chapter, despite visiting relatives and other setbacks. :D The readers I have to thank for reviewing despite all the distractions in their own lives are... **40/16, AliciaSpinnet93, alix33, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Beauty Eclipsed, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, cream-cheese-girl, ElspethBates, Eruaphadriel, FNP, galicianphantom, GraceRichie, Kates Master, Lieu Of Flowers, lyin', maraudernumba5, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, PhoenixDreamer55, QuieraStrawberry9, RahNee, Rana Mya, Sabrina Weasley, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Slipknot-3113, Sophia Loren, sqHPfan, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, taliapony, tambrathegreat, The Happy Stalker Ball, VioletPastPrime,**** worldsapart and WriterMerrin.**


	9. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

-

Caper was late to work. George tapped his watch and brought it to his good ear.

_Tick, tick, tick _

Bollocks. In hopes that the watch needed a new perfect-timing spell, he checked the clocks hanging in the office and shop. They also declared the time to be five minutes past nine o'clock.

George's stomach twisted. Caper was always early. He took great pride in his status as longest-running "Employee of the Month" at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It didn't matter that except for part-time help during the Christmas season he was the only employee. The house-elf would never risk having his picture removed from the wall behind the service counter. He had paid for the gold frame himself.

Something was definitely wrong.

In the midst of rising panic, he had a mental image of Fred rolling his eyes. _Don't go thinking he's dead, brother. Find out where he lives and pay a visit! _

George searched his desk. In the bottom drawer, he found a half-empty bottle of Firewhisky and a thin manila folder labelled "Employee Records." He frowned at the whisky—he couldn't remember putting it there—and lifted out a single sheet of parchment. The Knockturn Alley address on the application was one that caused red eyebrows to lift. How could he not have made the connection before? Caper lived above the Sleazy Kneazle!

The tavern closed during the morning hours, but there had to be a way for tenants to enter and exit. George didn't bother knocking on the front door. He went straight to the back.

The rock troll that acted as bouncer in the club answered the door. "Uh?" he rumbled.

Although it gave him a crick in the neck, George met the troll's eyes. "I'm here to see Caper. I'm his employer, and I have reason to believe he's ill."

The troll's granite-like features remained impassive. He began to shut the door.

"Hey, I have friends in the MLE and Auror Offices! They'll be down here charging you with obstruction if you don't let me in!" Neither Lee Jordan nor Kingsley Shacklebolt would do any such thing, but rocks-for-brains didn't know that. His gash of a mouth turned down. George said, "That's right. It's illegal to come between a man and his house-elf."

Before the troll had time to respond to the bluff, a reedy voice called, "A man and his house-elf? What man? What house-elf?"

"I'm the man," said George, "and Caper is my house-elf. I demand to be taken to him at once!"

A white-haired elf shuffled into view. "It's the law, it's the law!" he cried.

"Uh," said the Troll, taking a step back. He sounded doubtful.

George was grudgingly impressed. The bloke might be slow, but he recognised a bullshit story when he heard one. _Must be all the underage wizards and witches trying to talk their way past the age line at the door, _he thought.

"This way, this way!" said the elf. He waved George into the kitchen. "Oley will take you to Caper." He led the way up two flights of stairs to a door at the end of the corridor.

"Shouldn't you knock?" said George, hesitating to follow him in. Even if the gaffer was related to Caper in some way, it seemed rude to barge in unannounced.

"This is Oley's room. Caper has no true home. Caper is only a guest." The quavering words came from the elf lying on a pallet in the corner.

Two other unoccupied pallets were crammed into the small space. George thought that if this stuffy hole-in-the-wall was all Caper had to go home to, no wonder he gladly worked all hours!

Oley crouched down beside his friend. "The wizard claims you as his house-elf," he said in a ringing voice.

Caper sat up. "Can this be true?"

Alarmed by feverishly bright eyes and flushed cheeks, George said, "Yes. When you didn't come to work I was concerned, so I made my way over, and, well, persuaded Oley here to let me see you."

Oley placed his hand on Caper's shoulder. "Is you disputing the human's claim?"

Caper drew in a shuddery breath. "No."

George felt a weird shiver crawl down his spine. He didn't know what the two were getting so worked up about, but he had had enough. "Oi, get your hands off him. He's ill, he needs a Healer, and I'm going to take him to one—right now!"

Caper rose from the pallet of blankets. "I is ready to go, Mister George."

The old elf gasped. "_Mister?" _

"Yes. I call him mister." Caper smiled. "Is Mister George wanting to leave now?"

George nodded. An instant later, he was standing in his shop. He hadn't Apparated. It was elf magic.

Caper beamed up at him. "I will go stock the shelves."

"Hold your Hippogriff," said George. "I thought you were sick. What's going on?"

A look of shame crossed the elf's face. "Caper was given much Butterbeer to clean the dirty pub. Butterbeer made Caper sad, thinking that he has no family to care for." He rubbed his stomach. "Butterbeer made Caper sick too, until Mister George came." He bent to wipe his eyes on the hem of his tea towel. "To be a proper house-elf—" He sniffed. "—with a proper home to clean, and a proper _mister _to serve." He conjured a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. "This is the happiest day of Caper's life!"

If a Butterbeer bottle had materialised and cracked over his head, George could not have been more stunned. "I'm not your master," he said numbly.

Caper's expression was sly. "We say _mister." _

George had a sudden vision of Hermione Granger pointing her wand threateningly.

_I can't believe you donated to SPEW and then turned around and enslaved a poor elf! You're going to crawl on your belly like the snake you truly are! _

George didn't want to be a snake. He hated snakes; at least the Slytherin kind. "I don't own you. You're my employee."

"Yes, mister." The elf held up a rucksack that hadn't been in his hand a second before. "Where shall Caper sleep?"

"The Kneazle?"

Caper's shoulders slumped.

"Fine. The storeroom." George crossed his arms. "Temporarily, because you're a homeless employee."

"Yes, mister."

"And as my employee, you're not obligated to do any cleaning," said George, "unless it's your choice. If, for instance, instead of working in the shop this morning, you prefer to spend the morning cleaning the flat and transferring my things to the other bedroom so my brother and sister-in-law can stay in mine, I'll respect your wishes."

Caper smiled widely. "I would prefer it."

George started to relax. He had always prided himself on being a thoughtful employer. "In that case," he said, "would it be an imposition to ask you to do some marketing as well?"

"Of course not!"

"My sister-in-law is pregnant, particular, and French."

"A worthy challenge."

"One I'm not up to," George admitted. "So I'm thankful you are." He noticed Caper's eyes tearing up again and said quickly, "I'll be in the office if you need anything."

On the desk was a white box tied with a silver ribbon. George undid the bow, removing the lid to reveal the contents wreathed in white tissue paper.

_Thinking about testing the product on Alicia? _

"Maybe," George said beneath his breath.

"Fred's" laughing voice said, _George has a girlfriend! George has a girlfriend!_

George picked up a quill. "Shut up," he said. "I'm trying to concentrate on writing an ad."

_But there's a second verse! George has a house-elf! George has a house-elf! _

"I don't have a house-elf. I have a highly valued employee." The words made George feel better—less like a vile oppressor. He began to write.

**New! Exclusive to the WonderWitch line of products. Knockout Knickers! Whether you have a mischievous streak or an admirer who won't take no for an answer, you'll be pretty in pink and packing a punch! **

_From Punching Telescopes to Knockout Knickers, our brilliance never ends, does it? _

George rubbed a fingertip across the bra and panty set. Alicia would look very pretty in pink. After their date, if she agreed to try them on, he would look forward to taking a punch.

-

Alicia went out on her lunch hour and bought a new dress.

It wasn't that she didn't have any pretty dresses. She just wanted a _special _dress to wear on her first official date as George's girlfriend.

She found it in a shop that touted itself as a blend of Muggle and Magical fashion. Such a shop could never have survived during the war. In the new age of tolerance, however, Muggle-style dresses sold as fast as witch robes.

The periwinkle-blue dress had been paired with sheer dress robes on a mannequin, but Alicia chose to wear the short, flirty gown by itself. She fell in love with form-fitting, halter tie bodice set off by a band of crystal beads. Most of all, she loved the way she looked in the dress: gorgeous and sexy.

When George owled that they would have dinner at his flat and then take her dancing, she almost saved the dress for another time, when she could live out her fantasy of gazing into her boyfriend's eyes across an elegant table for two. One glance in the mirror changed her mind. Who cared if they ate at home or went somewhere posh? She wasn't wearing the dress for anyone but George.

Thoughts of the night ahead made it hard to concentrate on work. Once the shop was closed, she took her time getting ready, letting the anticipation build.

The look on George's face when he saw her was even more thrilling than she had imagined. "You look absolutely beautiful," he said.

Alicia's eyes travelled over his tailored black shirt and trousers. "You look very handsome."

Her boyfriend's smile faded when a woman called, "Is that Percy with the baguettes?"

"No, Mum, it's not Percy." George lowered his voice to say, "Guess who's coming to dinner?"

-

* * *

A/N: Just when I was trying to decide whether to post a shorter than normal chapter or wait until the next week, I got a review that said it's annoying when authors don't update when they promise. I took that as providence :D, and stayed up until you-don't-want-to-know-when writing in hope readers will enjoy the chapter! 

The readers whose reviews I enjoyed more than I can say last chapter were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Beauty Eclipsed, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, cream-cheese-girl, ElspethBates, Eruaphadriel, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, George Weasley forever, Gizmo The Third, GraceRichie, hopecraycat, Horsegrad13, JasperisMYeverything, Lil' Fairy, Lieu Of Flowers, lyin', Machiavelli Jr, MBP, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, owlfactory, PhoenixDreamer55, QuieraStrawberry9, RahNee, Sabrina Weasley, siriuslycoco, Sophia Loren, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, taliapony, tambrathegreat, The Happy Stalker Ball, ToImagine-ToDream-ToLive, and VioletPastPrime.**

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	10. Blue Notes

Alicia looked beyond George to the partially open door. She didn't know what to think. "Wasn't Fleur supposed to be hospitalised overnight?"

"The midwitch released her early." George's lips twisted. "Surprised me, too."

He kept sneaking glances over his shoulder. Was he worried his mother would come out before he could get rid of her? Alicia took a step back. "I'm not dressed for a family dinner," she said, "I can go home and—"

"NO!" George's adamant tone seemed to startle him as much as her. He laughed a little. "C'mon, stay. Your dress is fine." He moved closer. "More than fine, actually—it's gorgeous." He rubbed the halter strap with a fingertip. "What's this stuff? Satin?"

"Charmeuse. It's lighter, softer...clingier." It was hard to concentrate on fabric when his finger was tracing the edge of her bodice.

He dropped his hand to trail his fingers over the ribbon of tiny crystal beads beneath her breasts. "The sparkles are pretty."

"Thank you."

There was a roguish gleam in George's eye. "The skirt's made from different material than the top."

She pretended his sudden interest in fashion wasn't an excuse to run his hands over her. "The overskirt's chiffon."

"Overskirt?" He grinned like an imp. "What's under it?"

The look in his eyes tempted her to be daring. She took his hand and slipped it beneath her dress. "Feel for yourself."

His fingers caressed.

"That's my skin, not my skirt," she whispered.

"I know."

Alicia was still smiling when George kissed her. His lips were firm and warm, persuading her to forget that they were standing in front of an open door. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hooking her leg around his. George's hand slid higher.

A woman's voice cried, _"George Weasley, what on earth are you doing out—oh!" _Molly Weasley stood in the doorway of the flat, staring with her mouth open.

George said, "Alicia and I were waiting for Percy, Mum. We'll come inside if he doesn't return in a few minutes."

Alicia marvelled at how calm he sounded. Was it the years of practice talking his way out of trouble? Her face felt hot, and if she tried to talk, she was afraid her voice would sound high and thin, revealing her embarrassment. Somehow, it was worse to be caught by George's mother with clothes on than by her mum with their clothes off. It was a relief when Mrs. Weasley gave a jerky nod and shut the door.

"Bet that's the first thong Mum's ever seen," George said jokingly.

"Oh, Merlin, don't remind me." Alicia poked him in the chest. "It's your fault, Mr. Wear Sexy Lingerie!"

He chuckled. "What's that? You want me to wear lingerie? I hope silk boxers count. It's the best I can do."

"That isn't what I meant!" She tried to keep a stern expression and failed. He was too adorably naughty.

The sound of footsteps wiped the grin off George's face. "Did you go to Paris to find the right bread?" he called out.

Percy Weasley's voice echoed in the stairwell. "No, we only had to go to South Kensington to find an authentic _boulangerie." _

Alicia smiled to see Percy had brought his girlfriend with him.

Penelope held up a shopping basket. "He couldn't make up his mind," she said. "And men think _we _are the ones who waste time shopping."

George arched a brow. "What's so hard about picking out a couple of baguettes?"

The baiting tone caused Percy's face to redden. "Bill said Fleur's cravings have become unpredictable," he said. "I didn't want to have to go back if she decided she'd rather have sourdough, or something with apricots."

"A shrewd decision," said Alicia, trying to smooth things over.

George said, "Sensible to a fault, that's our Percy."

Percy stiffened.

The two women exchanged glances.

"Shall we go in?" said Penelope.

Alicia was already walking toward the door.

In the lounge, Mr. Weasley sat in a chair beside the sofa, leaning over to show Bill a rectangular yellow object. "The little vials inside show when a wall or surface is level," he said. "Hence the name. Ingenious people, Muggles!"

George cleared his throat. "Ahem! Dad, does Mum know you've been trolling Muggle shops again?"

Arthur rose to his feet. "Hello, Alicia," he said warmly, before turning to George. "I didn't purchase the level. It is merely on loan from my old department."

"How could a wizard misuse something like that?"

Alicia's curiosity earned a groan from George. "You had to encourage him."

Mr. Weasley handed her the level. "Allow me to demonstrate." Eyes twinkling, he asked, "Are you dating my disrespectful son?"

"Yes," she answered.

All eyes watched as a tiny bubble inside each of the three small vials floated toward the middle. Arthur beamed. "She's on the level!"

"I've got a question," said Bill. "Do you mind us barging in on your dinner for two?"

"Of course not." Alicia looked down. Each bubble had floated to the left side of the vial. She bit her lip. "Well, I would've been happy if I was properly dressed for the occasion." The bubbles drifted back to centre.

George frowned. "I told you the dress is fine."

"Yes, very nice," said Arthur.

Penelope's vigorous nod set her long curls bouncing. "I think your gown is lovely." She threw Percy a meaningful look.

He said, "Quite lovely."

George scowled. "On second thought, you can borrow some of my gear." He snatched the level out of Alicia's hand and extended it to his father.

Bill gave a bark of laughter. "What's the matter, brother? Afraid she'll get sauce on the dress?"

"Yes," George said shortly. "We're going dancing later."

Alicia's eyes flew to the level. The bubbles drifted to the right.

George tossed it to his father and grabbed her wrist, pulling her out of the room. "Let them snigger over me not being on the bloody level," he muttered. "What was I supposed to say, that I don't want anyone staring down your dress but me?"

"Uh...George?" Percy had followed them.

Alicia told herself that a brother overhearing was better than a father.

George snapped, "What?"

"Would you give Mum the bread when you pass the kitchen?" Percy held out the basket.

"Do it yourself."

Alicia tugged her arm free. "I'll do it."

"Thank you."

She watched Percy return to the lounge and almost cracked a baguette over George's head. Couldn't he see that his brother was trying to repair their relationship? Alicia was so upset, she didn't even blush when handing Molly the basket. So Mrs. Weasley saw them snogging. So what? What did Molly's disapproval matter compared to George's pig-headed stubbornness!

Not until George locked the door to Fred's room did she calm enough to ask, "Are you trying to ruin dinner?"

He yanked open the wardrobe. "Of course not." He handed her a pair of trousers before considering one shirt and then another. "Solid or pin striped? George asked, holding out two dress shirts. One was classic white. The other was a burgundy that clashed with his hair.

"The wine colour. It won't show through," she said, "and you'll ruin dinner without trying if you don't stop needling Percy. Fleur isn't supposed to be stressed, remember?" She turned so he could undo her zipper.

After a minute of silence, George's fingers pulled the hidden tab. "All right," he said. "I'll be polite. Messing Percy about is no fun, anyway. It's like pushing a wet noodle." He untied the bow at her neck and swept aside her hair to kiss her nape. "Tell me," he murmured. "What don't you want to show through?"

Alicia took a deep breath and turned around.

-

George was quiet during dinner. He noticed with a private smile that Alicia was too.

The rest of the family took up the slack in conversation. Molly was impressed with the way Caper enlarged both kitchen and table to seat the family while Fleur, jubilant over being out of bed, praised the food in a stream of French that turned elfin ears pink. She especially enjoyed the _bruschette._ His sister-in-law claimed it far superior to the Italian _bruschetta. _Both were a mix of tomatoes and basil on garlic bread to George, but if being toasted on a round of French sourdough made it tastier to Fleur, he wasn't about to argue.

In fact, George found it perversely amusing to catch different family members eyeing him as if wondering when he would spoil the mood with a facetious or sarcastic comment. Bill had a warning glint in his eye. _Upset my wife and_ y_ou'll need more than Bruise-Remover Paste._

Mum's looks were a mixture of anxiety and threat. _You will behave, won't you? If you don't, so help me, I'll box your ear! _

Dad's expression was serene. _You're a good lad, George. I knew I could count on you to keep the peace. _

Fleur slanted an occasional, amused look. _You wish to be alone with your bonne amie, yes?_

Percy was the only one who never truly relaxed, even after several glasses of wine. Through every discussion, he darted a wary glance across the table each time he gave an opinion or responded to a question. _Why aren't you putting me down or rolling your eyes? What's going on?_

The impudent voice in the back of George's mind snorted. _You know what's going on, don't you, Forge?_

George ignored "Gred's" taunt. He met Alicia's eyes, smiling when she blushed.

_You may__ have started out hot and bothered over what's under Alicia's shirt, but that isn't why you're sitting there hiding a smirk now, is it?_

George covertly peered sideways. His inner voice was obviously disconnected from the physical aspects of his body.

_That's right, rub it in__. I don't mind. I was starting to feel left out._

George pretended to listen to Fleur's story of the first time she had attempted to conjure a soufflé, thinking if his voice was going to claim to be that of reason, the least it could do was make sense.

_You know what I'm talking about, Georgie. __Percy's drinking like Sirius Black, he's so nervous about what you might say or do. Why should he be the only one to get the emotional thumbscrews? _

George couldn't answer. His thoughts were too tangled with pain and anger.

The sound of Alicia laughing along with the others brought him out of his dark reverie. George watched her cheeks dimple and suddenly wanted to be alone with her, in a place where the only shadows were cast by candlelight. He leaned in to ask, "Are you ready to go dancing?"

Caper chose that moment to serve dessert. "_Plaisir au chocolat!_" he announced grandly, before whispering to George, "Bittersweet chocolate cake with vanilla mousse and warm chocolate sauce."

"It looks delicious," said George, rising. "Unfortunately, Alicia and I have to be going."

"If you'll save a piece, I'd love to have it later," Alicia told Caper. She slipped out of the room to change.

The house-elf asked, "Is Mister wanting cake saved too?"

"No. Give mine to Percy."

"Why me?" Percy's tone was edgy.

George said lightly, "I owe you for the éclair I nicked off your plate that time Auntie Muriel brought pastries."

"I smacked Ron's hand for that!" Molly cried.

"He deserved it," said George. "I gave him a piece to keep quiet."

Everyone chuckled except Percy. He reached for his wineglass.

Fleur gasped when Alicia returned. "_C'est charmant!" _she exclaimed. "Where did you find such a dress?"

Smiling, Alicia named the shop.

Fleur placed her hand on Bill's arm. "I wish for such a gown. The high waist ees perfect for _une femme enceinte!"_

George quickly said a hearty goodnight and steered his girlfriend from the room. "Ginny taught you her Bat-Bogey hex, didn't she?" he said, when there was a door of solid wood between Alicia and his thoughtless sister-in-law.

"Why do you ask?"

"You looked like you were about to give Fleur one."

"Hex _une femme enceinte? _I wouldn't do that." She giggled. "I might _imagine _it, though."

The door opened. Bill stood on the doorstep holding his wife in his arms. Fleur was in tears. "_Je suis désolé, Alicia, _eef I hurt your feelings! _Pardon! _You do not look pregnant. You look vairy pretty!"

"Thank you," said Alicia. "The waistline _is_ flattering on all sizes, so if you like the dress, I'd send Bill shopping. There are only a few left, and one was a silvery grey that would be lovely with your hair."

"_Oui?_" Fleur started to smile. "_Mille fois merci! _Thank you vairy much."

George waited until he and Alicia were walking down Diagon Alley to say, "About Fleur..."

"Yes?"

He shrugged. "I know she's ugly, can barely cook, and Bill just manages to tolerate her, but if you give her a chance, I think you'd be friends. She has a good heart."

Alicia narrowed her eyes. "Examined her heart line, have you?"

George grinned. "I leave that chore to Bill." He lifted her hand and kissed the palm. "I'm only interested in yours."

He inwardly echoed her sigh as they entered the tiny club hidden between two Diagon Alley shops. The Blue Note wasn't for everyone. The music had to strike a chord, to fill a need, or the magical door wouldn't appear.

"When did you discover this?" Alicia asked, looking around the dimly lit space. At the back of the room, a jazz trio was performing.

The club was filled with solitary patrons at tables for two. "Lupin told me about the place after a Potterwatch broadcast. Said jazz was simple, direct, and emotional—something he appreciated. I didn't understand what he meant the first time I came here, but I did when I left." George tensed, hoping she didn't realise that his first visit had been after the battle at Hogwarts.

If she did, Alicia was sensitive enough not to ask. She pointed to a square of wood flooring. "No one's dancing."

George winked. "We'll show them how it's done."

They moved slowly to music that ranged from sweet and slightly wistful to sultry. At then end of the set, he asked how she felt about jazz.

"I want to cry...and I want to make love with you."

He felt the same way, thanking his stars Mrs. Spinnet wasn't home when they arrived. George wasn't in the mood for small talk.

He wasn't in the mood for drifting off to sleep after sex, either. There was an idea niggling at the back of his mind that wouldn't let him rest. He had to go.

At the door, Alicia slid something into George's pocket while kissing him goodbye. "Don't look now," she said. "Only if you need help having sweet dreams. Promise."

He nodded, amused. "I promise."

George returned to the shop, climbing the steps with grim anticipation. Would he find what he thought he would?

He did.

Percy was passed out on the sofa, snoring, although no sound was heard. Bill must have used a Muting Charm. George stared down at his brother, remembering earlier thoughts.

_Why should he be the only one to get the emotional thumbscrews?_

"You know why, don't you Percy?" he said in a rough whisper. "You know why."

In the room Fred had decorated with a poster-sized photograph of their shop, George felt tears prick his eyes. He couldn't sleep on the bed. It wasn't his. He took a pillow and stretched out on the floor, reaching into his pocket. Had Alicia given him a packet of sleeping herbs?

It wasn't herbs. It was two pieces of satin. He traced the edges of rose-shaped fabric, rubbing them between his fingers. George didn't need to see the "petals" to remember they way they looked against creamy skin. He smiled in the darkness, gradually closing his eyes to dream of Alicia wearing rhinestones and tassels.

-

* * *

- 

A/N: There was more than one 'blue note' this chapter, wasn't there? For anyone wondering, if you aren't wearing a bra, but don't want "certain things" to show, nude-coloured "petals" are an option. Since this is a T rated fic, I won't begin to speculate what sort of pasties George imagined in his dreams. :D The readers who were kind enough not to make me speculate whether or not they liked the last chapter were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Beauty Eclipsed, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, cream-cheese-girl, ElspethBates, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, galicianphantom, hopecraycat, JasperisMYeverything, LimeJuiceTub, Kates Master, lyin', MBP, meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, PhoenixDreamer55, QuieraStrawberry9, RahNee, raindancyr, Sabrina Weasley, siriuslycoco, Slipknot-3113, Sophia Loren, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, tambrathegreat, The Sugarfaerie, ToImagine-ToDream-ToLive, and VioletPastPrime.**


	11. Sour Cherries

-

The morning after the family dinner, Alicia received an owl from George.

**Come have l****unch with me. Bill has to work so I'm stuck with Fleur-duty. I can't handle it alone. She wants to talk baby clothes! Have pity and say yes.**

Alicia said yes. No woman in her right mind wanted her boyfriend dining _à deux_ with a part-Veela. She walked down Diagon Alley at lunchtime, not expecting to do more than play footsie with George while she listened to French-laced chatter about baby gear.

She walked into a flat transformed into a palace.

The elegance was overwhelming. Silver and gold-threaded tapestries hung on marble walls. Crystal chandeliers scattered prisms of light. Bouquets of flowers in porcelain vases adorned ebony tables. The furniture was massive, with arms upholstered in velvet and carved with lion's heads. Persian carpets were so thick, Alicia was tempted to take off her shoes and wiggle her toes in luxurious softness. She lifted her witch robes and gasped. Her pumps had been transformed, along with everything else she wore.

-

George found her staring raptly into a gold framed mirror. "It's an illusion," he said. "Still in the experimental stage, although I'm hoping to launch _Queen for a Day_ in time for the Christmas season." He grinned as visions of Galleons danced in his head. "Should outsell our patented Daydream Charms."

"Why France instead of England?" she asked distractedly, her admiring gaze focused on his green waistcoat.

"Practicality," said George, standing a bit straighter. "I'm not a history buff, but Caper's Gran emigrated with her mistress during the French Goblin Uprising of 1789, so he knew enough History to help create the spells." He saw her raised eyebrows and threw up his hands. "His name's on the patent. I'm not cheating him."

Alicia smiled. "You're a good _mister." _

George sent her a look of aristocratic hauteur. "I am his employer, mademoiselle."

"Oui, monsieur."

He groaned when she sank into a deep curtsey. "Shouldn't you have lace scarf-thing to cover the bodice?"

She fluttered her eyelashes. "It's your illusion."

_"Al__icia! Ees that you? Come, show me your gown!"_

"Oui, Madame!" Alicia walked past George, blue skirts swaying.

The bedroom was transformed into a simple, yet exquisite chamber that smelled of lilacs. There was no gilt on the furniture, only carvings of wheat and flowers. It was royalty's idea of rustic. Fleur sat up in bed, dressed in a delicate white gown. A straw hat perched beside her on the flower-embroidered bedcovers. She clapped her hands together when she saw Alicia. "Ah, you look so pretty! The _belle amie _of a dashing courtier!"

George said, "I'm no courtier. I was too bedazzled to compliment her properly."

"The way you looked at me was a compliment," said Alicia, "and you look very dashing in that wig."

His head jerked toward a mirror. He had never considered that men wore wigs too! "I look like a bloody Malfoy!" George exclaimed, appalled. Fruitlessly, he tried to remove the wig resembling powdered hair pulled back into a queue.

"_Non_," said Fleur, eyes sparkling. "Malfoys do not 'ave ze freckles."

Alicia giggled. "Too _bourgeois_."

The women's laughter coaxed a wry smile from George. "If _bourgeois _means I work for a living, I'm proud of it."

At that moment, violin music wafted into the room.

George snorted. "Is Caper trying to tell me something?"

The house-elf materialised beside the table and chairs placed by illusory French windows. Managing to look dignified in a silver-grey tea towel and wig, he bowed. "Lunch is served!"

"Praise ze stars!" said Fleur, clambering out of bed. "I was able to eat nothing zis morning, so now I could eat my weight in crepes!"

She wasn't joking. Instead of talking about baby clothes, Fleur devoted her attention to the food. While George ate three brie cheese crepes topped with a white sauce, Fleur ate four before moving on to the salad.

"Prosciutto and sun-dried cherries! _C'est magnifique! _What ees in ze vinaigrette?"

Caper stepped forward from his self-assigned post against the wall. "Black-currant vinegar, madame."

"Cassis! I should have known." Fleur ate another bite of greens. "Mmm..."

George winked at Alicia before saying, "Are you quite sure you're only eating for two, dear sister?" He smirked. "Twins run in the family."

Fleur put down her fork. She covered her face with her hands, crying and speaking incoherent French.

Alicia stopped sliding her foot up his leg. She gave him a little kick. "Fleur wasn't eating that much. Apologise!"

Caper cleared his throat. "Madame is overwhelmed by joy."

"She is?" George said doubtfully.

Fleur mopped her eyes with the handkerchief the elf offered. "_Oui_, Monsieur Caper. _Merci beaucoup_. You are both kind and a chef _nonpareil_."

Caper's entire face turned pink. The tips of his ears were red. " _I__il n'y a pas de quoi_," he said. "There is nothing to thank me for."

George watched the pair with narrowed eyes. "Remember, sister, he's _my_ employee and matchless chef."

"_Oui_, dear brother," she murmured, picking up her fork.

By the time dessert was served, the two women had discovered a mutual love of mystery novels and were chatting like old friends. Alicia said to George, "I'm so glad you invited me to lunch."

He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "So am I." George stared at her sleeve. "Damn it!"

Her blue gown had become witches robes once more. Fleur's dress was now white pyjamas dotted with green.

"Cabbages," said Fleur, noticing Alicia's questioning look. She placed a hand on her stomach. "For _mon petit chou_." A dreamy smile played across her lips. "Bill ees so sweet."

George sniggered.

_Imagining Bill's face when you present him with a cabbage to practice parenting skills on? Fleur might not think it so funny._

George frowned. He would have thought "Fred" the one to egg him on.

_Oh, I'm not telling you not to do it. I'm just reminding you that the joke might earn a hex._

George's lips turned up. Since when had that ever stopped him?

_Never. So__ may I suggest a red cabbage?_

His smile vanished when Alicia asked, "How long did the illusion last?"

"Same as it always does. Two hours." George picked up a plate that no longer appeared rimmed in gold. He let it clatter to the table. "That's nowhere near a day." Gloomily, he said, "I'll never see a profit at this rate."

Alicia looked thoughtful. "What if you market the spell differently?" she said. "Instead of calling it _Queen for a Day, _name the illusion _Queen of Hearts. _Advertise it as the ultimate in romantic gestures."

"Don't take your partner to Paris for dinner. Take her to Versailles," George said with a wide smile.

His enthusiasm fired Alicia's. "Fulfil her fantasies!"

George's smile became wicked. "I don't advertise anything I haven't tested."

Alicia's cheeks dimpled. "Thorough testing is important."

"Bill will test eet wiz me," Fleur announced. "He will do anyzing for family."

"What a wizard," said George.

Alicia giggled.

Fleur smiled serenely.

-

The meal became the first of many lunches and dinners spent together. Alicia enjoyed Fleur's company, and Bill's too. Most of all, she enjoyed the way George relaxed and teased like a cheeky little brother when the four of them played cards or sat and talked around the kitchen table. When the midwitch gave approval for Fleur to return to Shell Cottage, the two couples continued to meet for lunch and the occasional night out.

As weeks passed, the friendship raised a few eyebrows. "You honestly don't mind being seen with her?" Vicky asked, as they walked down to the Gnome and Jarvey. It was the day before Halloween, and George was working late at the shop.

Alicia repeated what her boyfriend had once said, "I know Fleur's ugly, but she has a good heart."

Vicky gaped at her. "Are you _mad? _She—"

"—likes mysteries, chocolate, shopping, and only has eyes for her husband."

"Sounds like you're friends."

Alicia bumped Vicky's shoulder with hers. "She'll never be my best mate."

"Too right," said Vicky, hooking her arm through Alicia's to playfully drag her into the pub. "Look who it is!" she cried to the group at the back.

After the pretended guesses and exclamations of relief that she was still alive, her fellow shop clerks made room at the crowded tables. The job stories and gossip was fun to listen to, but Alicia felt restless. She wanted to be with George.

"Earth to Alicia, come down off your mental broomstick..." Vicky stopped waving her hand in front of her friend's face. "We're headed to Kenneth's. You're not coming along, are you?"

"I have to pick something up at the apothecary." Although she was using it as an excuse, Alicia really did have a potion to pick up. The most important one: contraceptive.

Vicky gave her a sceptical look. "Uh huh." She followed it with a hug. "It was good to see you. Drag your broody boyfriend over some Friday, will you? We'll promise not to run down shopkeepers or make him tell about his pranks at Hogwarts—unless he wants to."

"I'd like that," said Alicia, before waving goodbye to her friends.

The apothecary was deserted except for a wizard perusing a selection of enchantment aids. Alicia pretended not to see him smile at her. She walked to the rear of the shop.

A goblin clerk was polishing the low counter. He put away his cloth. "How may I help you?"

"I should have an order ready. My name is Alicia Spinnet," she said.

He bustled over to a low shelf. "Here it is...twenty-eight day contraceptive potion." The goblin looked at the calendar. "I advise taking it right away."

She refused to drink it there. The creepy wizard who had smiled at her was walking that way. Alicia paid for the potion and took it home. In her room, she pulled the stopper from the flagon and took a drink. She almost spat it out. The clerk had given her the wrong potion!

Alicia returned to the shop immediately.

The clerk was arranging a display of brushing/flossing mints. "Is there a problem, miss?"

She glanced at his nametag. "Yes, Mr. Wilytongue, there is. I was given Morning After potion instead of twenty-eight day contraceptive." Alicia placed the flagon on the counter.

The goblin didn't blink for several moments. Finally, he asked, "Why do you say so, miss?"

Her face felt hot. "I've had...erm...Morning After...so I know it tastes like sour cherries, while the other contraceptive potion tastes like sweet cherries." She pointed to the flagon. "That tasted like sour cherries."

Mr. Wilytongue said, "There's no mistake?"

"None," she replied firmly.

"Ah." The goblin gestured for her to come closer. He said in a hushed tone, "I regret to inform you, miss, that _all _our contraceptive potions have the flavour of sweet cherries. Only if the magical properties of a potion have expired, or been rendered ineffective by pregnancy does the taste sour."

Alicia stared down at the flagon. Where did it say that? The fine print etched on the bottom of the glass? Who could read that? _Why _would anyone read that?

"There's no mistake?" she asked faintly.

"None." After a few moments of silence, the clerk said, "We carry a wide range of home pregnancy tests."

She bought four, took them home, and barricaded herself in her room. An hour later, she was sitting on the floor of her bathroom, surrounded by the debris of pregnancy tests.

Her mum knocked on the door. "Are you hungry, dear?"

Alicia couldn't respond. She was crying too hard.

She was pregnant.

-

* * *

A/N: Late posting, this week, but I hope readers found the chapter worth the wait! I may have seen Marie Antoinette a few times, and Dangerous Liasons, but Fleur was the one who inspired the illusion charm. Veelas act like royalty, don't they? The readers who deserve to be treated like royalty for reviewing last week were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Beauty Eclipsed, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, cream-cheese-girl, Euraphadriel, ElspethBates, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, hopecraycat, JasperisMYeverything, Jole, Kates Master, lyin', MBP, meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, PhoenixDreamer55, QuieraStrawberry9, RanaMya, raindancyr, Sabrina Weasley, Silverlake, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, tanpopo no hana, Verbally Enhanced, and VioletPastPrime.**


	12. Trick or Treat

Business was always good on Saturdays, but when Halloween fell on that day, sales skyrocketed. By midafternoon, Caper was showing his pleasure by grinning so widely, the "scars" on his face twisted horrifically. Customers in line at the checkout counter gasped and then clapped. Across the store, George took in the scene with an approving nod.

"Erm...beg pardon?" A shy-looking witch stood clutching a Jelly Organ jar in her hands. The jelly heart suspended in gelatine "preservative" beat rapidly.

George tried to put her at ease by not revealing his Lady Killer vampire teeth when he smiled. "Hullo! I thought all the fake specimens and Jelly Organs sold before noon. You've got a keen eye to have spotted that."

The customer still wouldn't look at him. Could be the trickle of fake blood from the corner of his mouth put her off. Some people were squeamish.

She said, "D—do you have any more of those Halloween _Orpheus Orbs _left?"

"The ones that play spooky music for parties? Yes, they're in a basket between the Inferi makeup and edible Dark Marks."

"No. I meant the..." The woman broke off, blushing.

George hid a smile. "_Snapetacular Moments?" _

"Yes."

He bent down to whisper, "I'm all but sold out, but for a valued customer, I'll go have a look."

George ambled toward the storeroom. As he had said, he was all but sold out—except for dozen or so in a box in the back.

_You'll do anything to earn client loyalty and repeat business. _"Fred's" voice was admiring.

"I'm not the one who did the customer base analysis." George held up the orb that glowed green. "Caper said we needed to strengthen the female demographics, so he deserves partial credit."

_You're the one who came up with the idea to use my old recordbrall of Snape's rants for something other than laughs at parties, though. That was sheer brilliance!_

George was certain he and Fred would have brainstormed to come up with something much better. Since that hadn't been an option, he had done the best he could. On impulse, he set the orb on a crate and gave it a spin. A dark, silky voice spilled into the room.

_You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking..._

It was a mystery why women swooned over the malevolent bat's voice. One George was happy to profit from. Ever since Headmaster Snape had been posthumously vindicated, legions of witches felt free to confess their admiration for the deceased "hero." The wave of response to Florence Flamboyant's _Kissing Snape_ article in the Quibbler—derided by his mum and Fleur—inspired the orb idea. It was a Halloween hit. A steady stream of "Snapetacular" customers had trickled through all day.

George stopped the orb on _dunderheads._ "Coincidence," he muttered.

On the wall, the flames of the enchanted torch flickered.

_Coincidence? _"Fred's" voice said in a sepulchre tone.

George tossed the orb into the air and caught it. "Are bat wings twitching in disgust behind the veil? Don't worry, you'll always be a snarky git to me," he said with determined breeziness.

He returned to the shop, feeling a slight twinge of conscience when the witch smiled at him as though he was Father Christmas. The twinge was ruthlessly suppressed when she thanked him and promised to recommend the shop to everyone in the Ministry mailroom.

By five o'clock, the seasonal stock was almost gone. George decided to close early.

"Mister is not keeping the shop open until seven?" Caper seemed amazed.

Was he really such a workaholic? "Not tonight."

"Is Mister going to see Miss Alicia?"

"No. She sent a note this morning saying she's sick. I'll have to go the party without her." George tried not to sound self-pitying. He hadn't been to Lee's new place or to any party since the battle, and would have preferred to have Alicia by his side. Her bright conversation made up for his silences.

"Perhaps Miss is better now?"

Caper's hopefulness was contagious. "I'll stop by on my way and find out."

"If Mister brings a basket of treats, Miss will think he is thoughtful."

Instead of a selfish pig who wanted her with him to disguise that he was no longer the life of any party? That sounded brilliant to George. "I'll run by a deli for some chicken soup."

His assistant's face became reproachful. "I is not to make the basket?"

George was being considerate, just not in the eyes of an overzealous house-elf. "Only if you want to."

Caper's smile, contorted by fake scar tissues, managed to be gruesome, yet endearing.

George decided to stay in costume to deliver the basket.

He could almost hear Fred chuckle. _Let her see what's she's missing, eh?_

The thought of what he'd be missing if Alicia was still sick brought a frown to George's face as he waited for someone to answer the rear door of The Light Fantastic. Weirdly, bits of stories learned in Muggle Studies kept running through his mind. Somehow, though, he didn't think the wolf had threatened to blow the pigs' house down if they didn't hand over Little Red Riding Hood.

"I'll huff and I'll puff," he said beneath his breath.

The door opened to reveal a woman dressed as a Greek goddess. He recognised her as the shop clerk, Zoe. The owl perched on her shoulder craned its neck forward.

_Voo-hoo-hoo!_

"Orlando said 'hello'." A meaningful look accompanied the pronouncement.

She expected him to speak owl? "Voo-hoo-hoo to you, too," George muttered.

Zoe beamed. "You need to work on projection, but the accent was impeccable." She peered curiously at his basket. "Vampires don't eat food. Is that for Alicia?"

"Yes. Is she feeling better? I'd like to see her."

"Can't. She's still lurgy. Hasn't left her room all day."

"Shouldn't she have seen a Healer?"

Zoe didn't take offence at his sharp tone. She took the basket with one hand and patted him on the arm with the other. "Don't get in a bother. It's only a virus. Nothing to do except drink fluids."

"Fine," he said, "but I won't leave until I know she's all right. Tell her to go to the window and wave or something."

George began walking toward the side alley. He pretended not to hear an owl call _Voo-hoo-hoo!_

A few minutes later, he caught a glimpse of white in the upstairs window. It was hard not to give into the urge to levitate. Memories of the times Ginny had yelled at him to get out of her room when she was sick kept his feet on the ground. If Alicia looked anywhere near as pale and queasy as his sister had, she wouldn't appreciate him seeing her that way. He returned her wave and left.

At home, George tossed the cloak he used for his costume over a chair. It would have been nice to have Bill and Fleur to talk to. The flat was dead quiet. He decided to rest up for the party, lying on his back to keep from having to redo his makeup later. Mum was to thank for that tip.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

George woke from a dream embarrassed and aroused. He padded over to the dresser and stared at his reflection, unnaturally white in the dimmed room. What was the big thrill about being a vampire? It wasn't the liquid diet or eternal night life. He recalled the dream and realised it was the power. One tap on the glass was all it took to have Alicia invite him into her room, into her bed, where she did anything he wanted.

_Maybe if you're real nice, she'll act out your fantasy one day, but until then, don't you have a party to go to?_

He did.

Lee Jordan's flat was on the top floor of a converted house. The faint sound of dance music crept its way down the stairs. Lee had never been Outstanding at soundproof spells. When he reached the landing, George had second thoughts about the party. Before he could back away, a brunette in a mermaid costume opened the door. "George!" Katie Bell cried. "I'm so glad you came!" She threw her arms around him, dragging him into the lounge.

"Air!" George gasped. He saw a familiar face beneath a Roman centurion helmet and yelled, "Rescue me from the clutches of this siren!"

Lee grinned. "Somebody get me a stake! My girl's being attacked by a vampire!" He bounded over, tugging George free only to engulf him in a hug.

"Ow, my ribs!" George complained half-jokingly.

"You're too skinny, Weasley," said Lee. He let his friend go with a clap on the shoulder. "It's good to see you, mate."

"Good to see you, and I'm not skinny. You just don't know your own strength."

Katie slid her arm around her boyfriend's waist. "The WWN sends him to interview Quidditch players, and they always invite him to work out. Getting buff, isn't he?"

"Interviewer, commentator, and rising star of magical law enforcement's public relations department?" George whistled. "No wonder you can afford this flat!" The oak floors and streamlined furniture were much more posh than his mismatched stuff.

"Katie's my decorator. She's amazing. One day she'll have her own shop."

"Lee, quit. You liked the neutrals as much I did."

It was amusing to watch his friends try to out-compliment each other. Not so funny was a blonde in a rabbit costume hopping through the crowd to ask brightly, "George, right? Hello. Where's Alicia?"

"Bridget, right? Home. She's sick."

The couple had stopped cooing to listen. "So the rumour is true? You and Alicia are dating?" said Katie. "I don't want to pry, but since you brought it up..."

"Yes. We're dating."

Lee took the hint that he didn't want to discuss his private life. "Can I get you a beer?"

"Yeah." George kept a beer in his hand for the rest of the evening. The alcohol enabled him to pretend he didn't see the speculative looks or hear the whispered comments. The only thing beer couldn't do was make George feel less out-of-place. Everyone was dancing and talking about things that didn't matter. He didn't care about decorating trends, what hot new club had opened or how biased the newspapers were against law enforcement now that the war was over. He wanted to walk away from Bridget—who chattered non-stop—and go see Alicia.

"Leaving before the witching hour, mate? We'll start a countdown in ten minutes."

George blinked. He was at the front door with no memory of crossing the spacious "reception room" as Katie called it. "Yeah," he said. "I need to check on Alicia."

"Well, I'm glad you came. Tell Alicia I'm sorry she couldn't make it. We'll have to get together for dinner sometime."

It took a moment for George to comprehend that Lee wasn't trying to ask Alicia out. He meant the two couples would get together. "Okay," he said, dredging up a smile.

It took several minutes for the world to stop spinning after George Apparated to Diagon Alley.

_That's why those public service announcements say not to drink and Apparate._

George felt through his pockets. "Shut up," he said, lifting his hand for a closer look. Why had he put peanuts in his pocket?

_Because Bridget wouldn't believe you didn't want to try Katie's new recipe for spiced nuts. You planned to dump them into the rubbish bin._

And then Katie waylaid him in the kitchen, so he couldn't hurt her feelings by chucking them out. George was glad he hadn't. He didn't have any sherbet lemons.

He took out his wand. Halfway through the spell, George changed his mind. There was a better way to wake Alicia.

He let the peanuts fall to the ground.

-

_Twenty eight hours earlier..._

Alicia cried until the shock wore off and reality set in.

She was going to have George's baby.

She scrambled up off the floor to stare at herself. _Do I look pregnant?_ She took off her shirt. Her reflection in the wide, square mirror didn't seem to have changed. Alicia turned sideways. Her stomach didn't curve in, but it wasn't sticking out, either. She looked at her chest.

_Perfect..._

Merlin, it was too easy to remember George standing behind her, breathing the word into her ear as his touch drove her crazy. Her hands came up to cover her bra. How big would her breasts get? They were already "generous" as her mum liked to say. What if they became ginormous? Would George think she was cow?

The irrational fear made her laugh. Here she was—preggers—and worried that her boyfriend wouldn't find her attractive anymore. How mental was that? Her main concern should be how to tell George he was going to be a daddy.

Her image in the mirror became blurry. What if he blamed her; accused her of trying to trap him?

Tears streamed down her face. Alicia turned away from the mirror, rushing into the bedroom to throw herself across the bed. She and George had gone through so much. George was finally opening up to her in a way that gave her hope that one day, he would feel about her the way she felt about him.

_Oh gods, _she thought, _if he doesn't want to be with me anymore, I'll die. _On the heels of agony, anger flared. _If he doesn't want the baby, I'll bloody well kill him!_

Her emotions veered wildly between fear and rage, apprehension and awe.

Alicia rolled onto her back. Somewhere inside, a baby was growing. George's baby. She placed a hand on her abdomen. _My baby…you're my baby…. "_And I love you," she whispered, tasting salt on her lips.

Elated and miserable, she cried herself to sleep.

In the morning, Alicia had no problem convincing her mum that she was ill. She looked awful. Her mother offered a Pepperup Potion and a cup of tea. Both were accepted, although the potion wasn't needed. While she sipped her tea, Alicia wrote George a note telling him she was sick and couldn't attend Lee's party. After she sent the owl to number ninety-three Diagon Alley, she laid in bed trying to think of the right way to announce an unplanned pregnancy.

By late afternoon, she still hadn't come up with a way to break the news. Every scenario she imagined ended with George storming out. Alicia was fighting back tears when Zoe knocked on her door.

"Yes?"

Zoe answered by thrusting a basket filled with treats into her arms. "You've a lovely boyfriend. He's good at owl calls and ever so concerned about you. He brought the basket."

"Is George still here?" Alicia braced a hand on the doorframe. If he saw her the way she looked now, he'd run for certain!

"Course he is. He told me he wouldn't go unless you waved from the window to show that you're all right."

Alicia set the basket on the floor to run to the window. "You're the sexiest vampire alive," she said, waving. If she wasn't a coward, she would have opened the window and invited George inside instead of watching him Apparate.

Zoe said from the doorway, "Are vampires alive? I know they're undead and all, but I didn't think they breathed like normal humans."

"They don't," said Alicia. "It was a figure of speech."

"Oh, okay. Enjoy your basket. I think there's chicken soup."

"Thank you, Zoe."

Alicia waited until she was alone to paw through the goodies in the basket. She hadn't eaten anything except tea and toast since last night. Hungrily, she devoured a golden pear and the crock of soup. It wasn't until she found the note half-hidden beneath a bottle of elfin spring water that her appetite to vanished.

_I'm going to deliver the basket in the hope that you're feeling better, but if you're reading this instead of __wriggling into a Romanian beer maid costume, get well soon!_

George could be so sweet. Maybe he would be that kind and understanding about the baby.

_I don't know how I feel!_

The words George had said so angrily that day in his office came back to haunt. There was no guarantee he would take her into his arms and say what she needed to hear—none at all.

She tried to keep her mind off George by taking a bubble bath. It didn't work. Neither did giving her nails a manicure nor reading. Eventually, Alicia gave into masochistic impulse and tried on the costume she would have worn to the party. The white peasant blouse and short, full skirt with embroidered apron was cute and sexy. If things had been different, she would have been with friends, dancing with her vampire lover.

Things weren't different, and she was alone, all dressed up with nowhere to go, because she didn't have the guts to face her boyfriend.

The truth was so depressing. Alicia flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes, attempting to escape reality with a fantasy. She wasn't Alicia Spinnet, knocked-up shop girl. She was Anika, a beautiful, tall, effortlessly slender Romanian girl who served beer in her widowed mother's tavern.

She imagined the wooden tables and colourful fabrics. Candles floated around the room. A fire crackled with blue flames in a stone fireplace. The scent of stew, fresh bread, and wood smoke mingled pleasantly. Slowly, Alicia's fantasy became a dream.

_In the mountains of Wallachia, superstitions died hard. All but a few villagers stayed behind locked doors on the night Muggles called All Hallows Eve. _

_"I'm going out for a breath of air," Anika told her mother, who was tending the bar. _

_Outside, the enchanted torches framing the doorway cast a pool of light that paled in comparison to the full moon. In the sky overhead, bats swooped down to capture insects. Anika huddled into her shawl. The creatures were so graceful, like dancers. Whimsically, she called out, "If you run out of food, come to our door! We've plenty of moths!" _

_"Is that an invitation?"_

_A man stepped out of the shadows, into her path. Anika felt her heart pound. Never had she seen such red hair...and his eyes! They seemed to glow. _

_"May I enter your establishment?" he said with old fashioned formality for a man so young. He didn't look older than twenty._

_Abruptly aware that she was staring, Anika nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course. You are most welcome."_

_He moved past her to open the door with a grace of movement she blushed to notice. "What may I get you?" she asked, once they were in the pub. _

_The stranger pulled the hood of his cloak up to conceal his face. "Elf wine. Red to match your lips." __She caught a gleam of white as he smiled. "And your cheeks."_

_He only drank one glass of wine before leaving, but the man's mischievous smile haunted Anika for the rest of the evening. __"Stop thinking about him," she told herself crossly, climbing into bed later. "He never even asked for your name!"_

_There was a tap at the window. "Anika," whispered a seductive male voice. _

_All her irritation drained away. In a dream-like trance, she climbed out of bed and walked toward the window. Anika never wondered how a man could stand outside a first floor window. She was too happy to see him._

_He placed his palm against the glass. __"Let me in."_

_She opened the window. "How do you know my name?"_

_Cool, pale fingers cupped her face. "The wind brought it to me, and brought me to you."_

_He took her into his arms and kissed her with lips that were deliciously firm and tasted of beer._

_Beer?_

Alicia was jolted awake. She was standing in the circle of George's arms. Cold air swirled around them from the opened window. On the dresser, the clock struck midnight.

George chuckled. "Are we still acting out the vampire fantasy? Do you want me to bite your neck, or can I nibble anywhere I like?"

Her knees almost buckled. "I'm still dreaming," she said hopefully.

His eyes darkened. "Are you okay? You're not delirious, are you?" He dropped his arms to shut the window. "Should I get your mother? Take you to St. Mungo's?"

"NO!" Alicia tried to soften her harsh tone. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" George looked at her with concern that touched her heart and made her feel guilty for putting off telling him the news.

"I—I just need a glass of water." What she really needed was a minute or two to try and come up with the right words.

"Do you still keep a glass on the bathroom counter?" George strode out of the room before she could call him back.

Her blood ran cold when she recalled what else was on the counter. Surely, he wouldn't open the stoppers!

She held her breath, listening.

First, Alicia heard a faint, pitter-patter, then the shaking of a rattle. Next, a tinkling lullaby was heard. Finally, there came the sound of a baby's cry. It grew louder as George walked out of the bathroom carrying a blue flagon. He replaced the cork stopper. In the silence, he said, "Tell me this doesn't mean what I think it means."

The stony look on his face made her stomach twist. "It was the Morning After potion," she said. "I—I didn't know the taste of sour cherries meant that it wasn't effective anymore. I swear!" She wiped away the tears that clouded her vision. "I only found out last night, when the clerk told me that contraceptive potions are sour when they're not working or—or you're pregnant."

"You weren't sick."

"I was sick with worry!" Alicia looked for any hint of understanding.

George's jaw was set. "You didn't seem worried when I came in."

"I was confused. I tried on the costume and took a nap. I thought I was dreaming. Remember? You thought I was delirious!"

After a moment, he nodded.

His silence frightened her. "Are you mad at me? Are you upset about the baby? Talk to me!_"_

"I can't."

Alicia wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself, and the baby, protectively. "_Please!" _

"I can't. I have to go."

"Go? Where?"

"To kill my brother," said George, right before Apparating.

"No, _no_, _NO_!" Alicia cried, running for the door. She clambered downstairs, fumbling to build a communication fire in the fireplace.

The tile of the hearth was cold and hard against her knees. She bent into the green flames and saw Bill Weasley crouched down in front of the fireplace of Shell Cottage. In the background, she heard George pounding on the door, yelling, _"Open up, damn you!"_

Bill's face was taut with worry. "Alicia, what's wrong?"

"I used the Morning After potion you gave George and now he wants to kill you!"

Bill's jaw dropped. "You're pregnant?"

"Yes!"

"Don't worry," said Bill. "I'll take care of my brother." His scarred mouth twisted into a gentle smile. "You take care of yourself and my niece or nephew." He ended the communication, leaving her to sit in the dark, crying in shuddery gasps, until a blanket was draped around her shoulders.

"Did I wake you, Mum? I'm sorry."

Alicia's hope that her mother hadn't heard her conversation with Bill died when Anne said, "That young man was right. You have to take care of yourself—and my grandchild."

-

* * *

A/N: Does this count as a double cliffie? I hope the long chapter compensates for the emotional pain of having to wait for the chap to post and then to find out what Bill and Anne have to say! _Orpheus Orbs _are something I made up a few years ago for a Slytherin House party in a D/G fic and have been using ever since, along with recordbralls. :D I refuse to believe teen wizards and witches live without magical means to play their favourite music, so just because Jo hasn't described anything except the wireless network doesn't mean it can't exist. She doesn't describe Arthur and Molly's sex life, either, and yet they had seven children who proved they have one, LOL. 

The readers whose reviews gave emotional joy with their reviews last chapter were...**40/16, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, AutumnSkys, Bardlover, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, cream-cheese-girl, Da Phoenix 13, Euraphadriel, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, hopecraycat, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Kates Master, Master Keto, MBP, meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Morkhan, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, murries, ncis-lady, PhoenixDreamer55, QuieraStrawberry9, raindancyr, RahNee, RanaMya, Sabrina Weasley, Silverlake, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Sivaroobini Lupin-Black, Slipknot-3113, StarsInTheSky123, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, tambrathegreat, tanpopo no hana, tiffyrose, ToImagine-ToDream-ToLive, Verbally Enhanced, and VioletPastPrime.**


	13. Baby Blues

George pounded on the door to the cottage. He was shaking with fury. "Open up, damn you!"

_Got a taste for Muggle duelling at school, eh, brother? Want to punch Bill the way you did Malfoy?_

Yes, he did. Hexing didn't give one tenth the satisfaction of crashing fist against skin. George remembered the sound and feel of Malfoy's nose breaking as though it were yesterday. He only regretted that he hadn't done more damage, and planned to give Bill a bloody nose the moment he answered the door.

In the back of his mind, "Fred" snorted. _Our brother isn't a pampered prat. You could end up with something a lot worse than a swollen lip!_

Back in seventh year, George had been too busy cursing and punching to register anything else, but afterwards he figured it was more likely he'd been hit by one of Harry's wild swings than a lucky jab by Malfoy. Either way, he hadn't cared then and wouldn't care if he took a punch now.

He kicked the door. Unexpectedly, it flew inward to slam against the wall. George rushed inside the dark house and promptly stumbled.

_Trip Jinx! _Fred's voice said gleefully.

At the far end of the room, an Illumination Orb flared to life. George wasn't misled into thinking his brother had engaged it by hand. He cast a nonverbal spell an instant before Bill tackled him.

"Oomph!" Bill grunted, sliding off George to knock his head against a side table.

_The Greased-Pig Charm. A timeless classic!_

George muttered a counter-charm and reached for the back of his brother's robe, determined to turn him over and punch his lights out. Instead, he pulled his hand back with a yelp. "Ow!"

_Stinging Hexes...simple, yet effective!_

Bill had started to rise. "I don't want to hurt you."

George used a spell to literally yank the rug out from under Bill's feet, punching his brother in the eye as he fell. "You already have, you bastard!" He moved in to take another swing, only to be forced back by magic.

_Revulsion Jinx. Good one!_

"What a pretty purple flash that spell had." George sneered. "Where did you learn it? From Fleur, after you gave her expired Morning After potion!" Quickly, he cast a Shield Charm. When Bill attempted to ward him off with a jinx, George punched him in the stomach.

In return, he got a nasty jab to the cheek that rocked his head back.

"I gave those potions to you and Fred before my wedding. How the bloody hell could you think they would work a year later?"

"You said they were long lasting!" A short right jab to Bill's cheek was followed by a left punch to the gut.

Bill leaned forward to clutch his stomach, and then head butted George, who toppled backwards.

George found himself face down with a knee pressing him to the floor and his arms twisted behind his back. "I trusted you!" he choked out.

He heard Bill sigh. "I thought you were more experienced."

George laughed bitterly. "How was that supposed to happen? Fred and I dreamt of our own shop since we were little. Creating gags, teaching ourselves about finances and running a business—we made an agreement. No serious girlfriends!"

"Fred always talked—"

"—yes, talked." George was thankful Bill couldn't see his face. His eyes felt wet. "Fred flirted with every pretty girl that came into the shop. That didn't mean he had sex with them."

His twin's "voice" said tetchily, _Don't make Bill think I was a twenty-year-old virgin! It's bad enough to be pitied for dying!_

George said, "He only hooked up with a few customers and that cousin of Fleur's..."

_I'm still one ahead of you, and Danielle was part-Veela. Shouldn't that get extra points? She stayed for a week!_

"And you didn't, uh, connect with Chantal?"

George's arms were starting to feel numb. "Obviously not."

Bill released his hold, shifting to sit on the floor beside George. "I have to ask," he said. "Why didn't Alicia—"

"—she was even less experienced than I was."

"Oh."

George rolled onto his back and stared blindly at the ceiling. "She bought four home pregnancy tests. I found them on her bathroom counter. I uncorked one of the stoppers, thinking it was a healing potion and..."

"Did you hear a lullaby?"

"That was one of the results. All of them were positive." George felt weirdly disconnected, as though his earlier rage had overloaded his emotions to the point of numbness.

"What did you say to Alicia?"

The scene replayed itself in George's mind. _Are you mad at me? Are you upset about the baby? _She had begged him to talk to her. "I said I was going to kill my brother."

"I know. She told me," Bill said wryly. "I told her I'd take care of you."

George rose to his feet. "I'm not a child anymore." He held out a hand to help Bill up. "You're not charged with minding me while Mum's off shopping."

"No, you're not a child. You're a twenty-year-old wizard with a pregnant girlfriend."

The blunt words had more impact than a right jab. George swayed on his feet. "I can't."

"Can't what—be twenty with a kid on the way? Sure you can. Dad was even younger than you are." Bill laughed shortly. "Why do you think they eloped? Because the Prewetts wouldn't pay for a wedding? Mum was pregnant."

"No."

"Yes. They were married the same year I was born. Happens a lot in times of war."

"Not to me."

"It already has." Bill laid his hand on George's shoulder. "You have to face this. The baby isn't going to go away." His tone hardened. "Would you want it to?"

"NO!" George pushed his brother's hand off his shoulder. "I may not be ready to be someone's father, but that doesn't mean I want Alicia to lose the baby!"

"Good, and no man's ever ready to be a father," said Bill.

"You are."

"I'm eager, not ready. There's a difference."

"Not to me."

"Sure there is." Bill gestured to the pictures on the mantel. "I haven't taken care of a baby since Ginny, and that was a long time ago. I'm going to take a class at the birthing centre." He grinned. "You could take it with me."

George could barely concentrate. He kept hearing a baby's cry grow louder and louder. "I can't."

Bill's expression sobered. "You're not talking about a parenting class."

"I can't be a parent." There, he'd said it. George sat on the sofa and put his head in his hands. If he looked at Bill, he would lose the tenuous control he had on his emotions. "I work too much," he said. "I drink. I don't want to be responsible for a house-elf, much less a kid!"

George felt the cushion dip as Bill sat down. "I thought Caper was your employee."

"He was—is—it's complicated, like everything else in my gods-forsaken life." George stared at the floor. Every muscle in his face pulled down. His throat ached.

"Your family is here for you. So is Alicia. Do you really feel forsaken?"

He shouldn't. George was well aware how lucky he was compared to people like Andromeda Tonks. That knowledge didn't ease his sense of loss. "Fred's not here."

_What am I? The next door neighbour's voice of reason?_

"I hear can hear him in my head, but it's just memories." Tears rolled down George's face. He let them fall. "He's gone. I have to live with that." As much as it hurt, as much as it tore him up inside. He turned his head so Bill wouldn't see him cry.

"You're doing the best you can," Bill said softly. "Things will get better."

"What if they don't?" George finally got the courage to look his brother in the eye. "What if I'm so messed up I can't be a decent father to my kid?"

"If you were that messed up, you wouldn't be worrying about it."

"I wish I could believe that."

Bill offered a handkerchief. "Give it time. You will."

George wiped his face. "Nothing else I can do...and where has Fleur been all this time? She can't have slept through our fight."

"She's probably upstairs, listening with a pair of Extendable Ears."

"_Non_," said Fleur, appearing in a chair across from them. "I used ze Disillusionment Charm."

Bill shot to his feet. "You could have been hurt!"

"By two men rolling on ze floor like boys? I zink not. Eet was vairy easy to step around you!" Fleur managed to look regal even in Gryffindor-striped woollen socks and a Beauxbatons robe. "I shall return to bed, but first, I 'ave a question for you, _mon frère_." She walked over to poke George in the chest with her finger. "Eet ees well and _bon_ you worry about ze _bébé, _but I zink first you should 'ave concern for your partner! 'Ow ees Alicia feeling?"Her eyes narrowed. "Did you ask? Do you care?"

"Yes, I care!"

Fleur's graceful brows winged upwards. "Does she know zis?"

"Yes, she does."

The assurance in George's voice was contradicted by "Fred's" snort. _Are you referring to that time you did a Snape impression by speaking without moving your lips? Oh, yeah, I'm sure that had her eyeing china patterns._

Girls started picking out china when they planned to marry. Alicia wouldn't have done that. She still wouldn't—would she?

_Then it's an illegitimate Weasley you're planning on having? Can't wait for Mum to find out her second grandbaby is going to be a love child! _

"George? _George?"_

Fleur and Bill were looking at him with concern. He had been lost in thought. "Sorry. I need to talk to Alicia." George strode toward the door, halted, and turned to say, "Thank you—both of you."

"_Pas de quoi_," said Fleur. "You're welcome."

Bill touched his rapidly-swelling eye. "Anytime."

George Apparated to Diagon Alley. It would have been rude to Floo in uninvited. Especially after the way he left. If Alicia refused to see him, he wouldn't blame her, but he wouldn't leave until she changed her mind. He knocked on the panel of wood that triggered the ward to chime in the upstairs flat and then stepped back to allow anyone performing a surveillance charm to see his face.

Alicia's mother answered the door. George didn't think any amount of politeness would thaw her icy expression, but he tried anyway. "May I speak with Alicia, please, Mrs. Spinnet?"

"Alicia isn't here."

"Where is she? I need to see her."

"You should have thought of that before you left to kill your brother."

Damn. She knew about that. Not good. "That was a misunderstanding," George said. "Bill and I talked and now I need to talk with Alicia."

"The kind of talk you had with your brother?"

George felt the bruise on his cheek throb. It probably looked like hell. He gave Alicia's mother his most contrite look. "No, ma'am. I would never deliberately hurt your daughter."

She gazed at him, considering, for several seconds. "Alicia went to visit a friend."

"Which friend?"

Coolness crept back into her tone. "Don't you know her friends, Mr. Weasley?"

"I know Vicky Frobisher and Kenneth Towler." People who threatened him always made a lasting impression. "I'll knock on their doors if I have to."

He was subjected again to a motherly inspection. It made George stand up straight and wish he'd combed his hair. Finally, Mrs. Spinnet said, "Alicia's gone to see Angelina Johnson."

Angelina Johnson was a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. It was Quidditch season. She could be in any number of towns. "Gone to see her, where?"

"That's for you to find out, Mr. Weasley." Mrs. Spinnet began to close the door.

"George!" he called out.

"Beg pardon?" said Mrs. Spinnet.

"Please, call me George," he said. "Mr. Weasley is my father."

"A very good father, I've heard. A fine role model. Believe me, George; I'm trying hard to keep that in mind."

He watched the door shut, thinking that if she hadn't invited him to call her Anne, at least she'd stopped saying "Mr. Weasley" in the way that reminded him of detentions with Professor McGonagall.

In case Mrs. Spinnet changed her mind and came back or opened an upstairs window to tell him where Alicia was, George remained standing in the alley. Eventually, when his cheek grew anaesthetised from the cold, the realisation that he wasn't going to have it so easy sank in.

He went home.

"Is that you, Mister?" Caper, dressed in nightcap and robe, gasped when he saw George. "You is hurt!" He waved his hand.

George reached up to touch his healed cheek. He would have preferred Alicia to kiss it better. "Thanks," he said. "I need your help."

Caper's eyes seemed to glow with zeal. "I is waiting to serve you!"

Briefly, George stated his need to locate Angelina Johnson. Caper nodded, Disapparated, and returned within minutes.

"You didn't break into the Ministry to get this, did you?" asked George, taking the paper.

"It was not necessary to bypass Floo Network Authority security," Caper said. "The London office of the Harpies was insufficiently warded."

George unfolded the parchment to reveal the team itinerary. The Harpies were currently in Wimbourne to play the Wasps. While he scanned the page for hotel information, George asked, "Why haven't I ever heard of house-elf criminals? With your skills, you could steal anything you liked."

"House-elves is not thieves."

George lifted the parchment. "So this is…?"

"A copy."

Caper's patient dignity was humbling. George said, "Of course. Forgive my ignorance." _And my cynicism, _he thought. _I've associated with too many dodgy characters like Mundungus Fletcher to believe the best of people._

"Yes, Mister."

Did the elf forgive him freely, or because it sounded like an order? "You don't _have _to," said George. "Only if you want to."

"Yes, Mister."

George held out his hand. "Thank you."

Caper shook his hand with a smile that rivalled any jack-o-lantern floating around the shop.

-

The Edwardian hotel the Wasps were staying at was a step up from the lodgings Alicia remembered visiting last season. That had to please Angelina, who had accused management of scrimping on quarters to increase profits. Whoever the new owners were, they weren't tight-fisted with their Galleons.

Alicia asked the clerk manning the reception desk for Angelina's room number. He discreetly checked a list—likely of acceptable visitors—before providing the information.

Inside the mirrored lift, Alicia kept her gaze on the carpet. She could have taken the opportunity to cast a Complexion Charm, yet didn't. She didn't want to hide how she felt anymore.

Her friend's room was on the top floor at the far end of the corridor. It was a corner suite. Were several team mates sharing? Alicia decided that it didn't matter. They could talk in the bathroom if need be. She knocked on the door.

"Alicia! What's wrong?" Angelina drew her into an elegantly furnished room lit by candles. Her hair flowed down her back, freed from its usual confine of braids. There was no sign of team mates.

"Are you alone?" asked Alicia. "Can we talk?"

Angelina's eyes flickered toward the doors leading to the bedroom. "Of course we can. Remember what I told you? I meant it."

_I don't care if I'm playing the Appleby Arrows or the Heidelberg Harriers. If you need me, I want you to find me. _

"Best mates for life," Alicia said. She broke into tears.

Angelina hugged her. "It's George, isn't it? Shite. I knew it. The minute I read your letter, I said to—I said to myself that he was going to break your heart." Her arms tightened. "I have access to a locker room full of equipment. Say the word and we'll go get a few bats and Bludgers and use him for target practice."

Alicia said, "No. I don't want to hurt him. He's already dealing with too much pain."

Angelina stepped back. She tightened the belt to her robe. "That doesn't give him the right to hurt you."

"George hasn't—not on purpose. It's complicated."

"Tell me about it while I fix us a drink." Angelina walked over to a drinks cupboard that resembled an honour bar. "Try the sofa. There are feathers in the cushions. It's very comfy."

Alicia sat down. "Do you keep a tally of what you have?"

Angelina ran a hand over gleaming, dark wood. "This only masquerades as an honour bar. The staff keeps track, not that I care. I'm not looking to cheat anybody. Want a glass of wine?"

"I'd better have a Butterbeer."

"Why? Are you afraid the alcohol will make you sleepy?"

"No. I'm afraid it will harm the baby."

Angelina set the decanter down. "What baby?"

"My baby."

"Your baby? How can you be having a baby? You've only been dating George two months!"

"That's what my mother said."

Angelina rushed over to sit beside her friend. "You look gutted. What else did she say?"

Alicia blinked away tears. "What didn't she say? I'm responsible for a child's welfare. I have to think of what's best for the baby...consider what kind of environment I want him or her to grow up in. Every choice I make now will affect the baby's future."

"That's a lot to put on you. What about George? He's the father. Shouldn't he share the responsibility? What did he have to say?"

"He wasn't there. He—he left. Mum had her say, and then I left."

Angelina wrapped her arms around Alicia. "Don't cry, mate. Don't cry. I'll help." She lifted her head to call, "Blaise!"

Blaise Zabini strolled out of the bedroom. His only clothing was a pair of trousers a shade darker than his skin. Beautifully sculpted as a classical statue, he had a voice like marble, cool and smooth. "Yes?"

"Tell the coach I won't be at practice tomorrow. I have a personal emergency to take care of."

An aristocratic brow rose. "I'm the team owner, not your errand boy."

Alicia felt her eyes grow round. She'd known the Slytherin was wealthy, but this was beyond anything she'd imagined. Had he bought the team because of Angelina?

Her friend stood, chin lifted. "You said you'd do anything for me. Was that a lie?"

"No. I'll pass along your message." Blaise held himself proudly. "You said you'd introduce me to your friends. Was that a lie?"

"No. Blaise, this is my best mate, Alicia Spinnet. You remember her from Hogwarts. Alicia, this is my...boyfriend...Blaise Zabini. You remember him, don't you?"

_From your vampire fantasy talk, yes, I do. Vividly! _"It's, um, nice to meet you," said Alicia.

Blaise inclined his head. "My pleasure. There is another bedroom if you care to stay."

"I can't," said Alicia.

The hotel door rattled on its hinges. _"I know you're in there, Alicia! The clerk wouldn't tell me Angelina's room number, but nothing stops a proximity tracing spell!"_

Alicia's heart leapt. "George is here!"

"Does that mean you'll be at practice tomorrow?" Blaise asked Angelina.

Angelina stalked toward the door. "Depends," she said, "on whether or not I'm in jail."

-

* * *

A/N: I was only going to write a 2400 word chapter. I still have a R/T chapter to finish (and I WILL finish it for a Friday post...sometime, heh) This ran way over. I _had _to end on a cliffie! (grins) As for Bill Weasley being an unexpected surprise, here's my reasoning. The first rise of the Dark Lord (using the HP-Lexicon timeline) starts in 1970. Bill was born November 29th, 1970. His parents' birthdays and exact years at Hogwarts are unknown, so for this story I choose to believe they were in the class of '69 and unexpected pregnancy was the reason they eloped after leaving Hogwarts. My apologies to the more squeamish of readers for raising the disturbing spectre, yet again, of Arthur and Molly's sex life. :D 

The readers whose reviews I enjoyed as much as Fleur enjoyed watching Bill kick arse as a big brother or Angelina enjoyed the view of Blaise without a shirt were... **40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, AutumnSkys, Bardlover, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, cream-cheese-girl, ElspethBates, Euraphadriel, Evo422, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, ginnylovesharry07, GraceRichie, Guaja, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Master Keto, meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, owlfactory, PhoenixDreamer55, Ponytail Goddess, QuieraStrawberry9, RahNee, RanaMya, Sabrina Weasley, sapphire200182, siriuslycoco, Slipknot-3113, Sophia Loren, Sunshine Spray, tambrathegreat, tanpopo no hana, Tara-Yo, The-Unknown-Halliwell, tiffyrose, ToImagine-ToDream-ToLive, Verbally Enhanced, VioletPastPrime and WhiteGreen.**


	14. Come Talk to Me

George didn't know exactly what he was going to say to Alicia, but he wasn't about to let anyone or anything prevent him from talking to her. He pounded on the door. "I know you're in there, Alicia! The clerk wouldn't tell me Angelina's room number, but nothing stops a proximity tracing spell!"

Out of the corner of his eye, George saw the door to the next suite open. He heard a woman's voice say breathily, "A proximity tracing spell. How resourceful! Why have we never used that, sisters?"

"We did. _The Potions Master's Prize. _Alain caught Natalie spying in the dungeon and chained her to the wall." The second voice was huskier than the first.

"No," said a third woman, her tone brisk and decisive, "we used a _pheromone _tracing spell in _Wolf Lover, _when Tena ran out of the pub and David tracked her down to the abandoned warehouse."

"Oh, yes, I remember," said the woman George recognised as the second speaker.

A breathy giggle sounded. "I wonder if this young man's scene shall end as satisfactorily as those of our heroes."

George addressed his unseen watchers. "It won't if no one answers the door."

There was the sound of sharply indrawn breaths. The women's door closed a split-second before Angelina's opened.

George stared. It was disconcerting, seeing his former school-mate without braids. It brought back memories of Fred's funeral. Angelina had scraped her hair back that day, so when she hugged George after the service, he asked if it was the new fashion to look like McGonagall. His half-hearted smile had caused her to burst into tears before rushing over to cry on Alicia's shoulder.

"Hullo, Angie," said George, hoping to defuse some of the anger sparking in her eyes with a friendly grin.

"Don't call me Angie! My name's Angelina!" He watched in dismay as her eyes filled with tears. "I told you and Fre—everyone—that since first year!" She lifted a hand to wipe her cheek. "But you don't consider anyone else's feelings. You do what you want and expect everything to go your way." More tears rolled down her face. "You're selfish and inconsiderate, and...and if I had a bat and Bludger..." She turned on her heel.

George followed her into the suite. "Angelina, I didn't mean to—" He pulled up short to see Alicia standing beside a half-naked bloke. The man moved forward.

Angelina shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said to Alicia. "I'm sorry." She ran into the bedroom.

"My invitation stands," the man said before following Angelina. Privacy spells muted whatever conversation was taking place.

George pointed to the doors. "Who was that, what invitation, and why did Angelina cry instead of hexing me?" He took a closer look at Alicia and frowned. "Tell me later. You've been crying. Is that my fault too?" A terrible thought propelled him over to take her by the arms. He expected her to pull away, and was thankful when she didn't. "Are you upset because I left, or upset about the baby?"

She looked at him with big, dark eyes. "Are _you _upset about the baby?"

He wanted to say "I asked you first," but something in her tone told him she needed to hear his answer. "I was upset with Bill," said George, "but after we—uh—talked, I was angry at myself." He lightly ran his hands up and down her arms. "I'm the one who gave you that potion."

"Neither of us knew it was expired," Alicia said. "Both of us are responsible." She touched his cheekbone. "Who healed you? Bill? He did a good job."

"Caper. He's good at loads of things." _Healing, breaking into offices, copying itinerary..._

"You're fortunate to have him around."

"Yeah." George searched her face. "So—how do you feel?"

"What are you asking? If I have morning sickness or if I plan to keep the baby?"

Vague memories of his mum throwing up made George's stomach twist. He placed a hand on Alicia's abdomen. "Are you queasy? Should you lie down? I could order tea and toast." He rubbed her stomach, remembering his father doing the same to his mother when she was pregnant with Ginny. Why it had been done, he had never figured out, but if it made Mum smile, maybe it would do the same for Alicia.

"I'm fine."

She wasn't smiling. He tugged up her blouse to stroke bare skin. That sure felt better to him. He traced slow, wide circles. "Are you fine about _everything?_"

"Not everything. Not yet." Alicia looked down. "Why are you rubbing me?"

"I'm trying to make you feel better."

She took his hand in hers. "I need words more than touch."

The knots in his stomach tightened. "I don't know what to say."

"Say how you feel. That's all I ask." Her fingers gently squeezed his.

George glanced around the spacious, elegant room. "Could we talk someplace a little more private?"

She led him across the lounge. "In here."

His eyebrows rose when he looked at the antique four poster bed. "This is the guest bedroom? Quidditch players must earn more than I thought."

Alicia let go of his hand to cross her arms. "They don't, and I don't want to talk about Angelina's boyfriend right now. I want to talk about us."

He didn't want to talk about a guy who probably took muscle-enhancing potions either, but finances were an issue they had to discuss. George said, "I'll never have this kind of money. I may make more Galleons than I ever dreamt of, but I'm still a shopkeeper."

"I'm a shopkeeper's daughter."

Did she expect to be a shopkeeper's wife? His collar was suddenly too tight. He unfastened his robes.

"What are you doing?"

George almost told her he was going to strip. He said, "Getting comfortable."

Her eyes slid to the massive furniture dominating the room. "Don't get too comfortable."

Was that reminder for him or for her? "It's a big bed. We could take opposite sides." Alicia started to shake her head. He quickly asked, "What's that carved on the headboard?"

"It's a Tudor rose."

He strolled over to take a closer look. "So it is." He unfastened the tie holding the bed curtains. "Is this place draughty like Hogwarts?"

Alicia said, "You know very well it's for looks."

George sat on the mattress and slipped off his shoes. He pulled the curtains before stretching out on the bed. "Let's use the curtains for privacy."

"We're already private."

He rolled onto his side. "Please?"

She lay down facing him, yet as far away as possible. "Are you ready to talk now?"

George whispered a spell.

Alicia shivered. "What was that?"

"If you fall off the bed, you'll bounce." He dropped his eyes to the rose and pomegranate design on the duvet. A gold thread was loose. He picked at it. "I don't want anything to harm the baby."

The bed shifted as she scooted nearer to him and further away from the edge. "I'm going to take good care of our baby, George."

His gaze was drawn to her stomach. "It's still hard to believe this is happening. You don't look pregnant."

"That'll change."

"I don't deal well with change." George's eyes flickered up to Alicia's face. How would she react?

A fleeting smile tilted the corners of her mouth. "I'm well aware of that." Her tone softened. "Nothing has to change right away. The baby isn't due until May or June."

"June. It has to be June." George couldn't help speaking harshly. May was the anniversary of Fred's death. The thought of a birth in the same month was sickening. He didn't want the family to be so caught up in the newest baby that they forgot the man who would never hold a niece or nephew.

"Oh gods, Fred—I didn't think, I'm so sorry!" Alicia's eyes were bright with tears. Her voice trembled. "You're right, it has to be June."

He edged closer. "I always make you cry."

She took a shuddery breath. "Not always." Her fingertips brushed his eyelashes and came away wet. "This time, I'm crying with you."

His chest burned with suppressed emotion. "I'm not crying."

"Then I'll cry for you."

George took Alicia into his arms, burying his face in her hair as he held her tight. As her body shook with sobs, hot moisture trickled down his cheeks. "Don't cry," he whispered. He smoothed her hair aside to kiss her cheek. "Don't cry." He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

No one had ever looked at him the way she did. There was understanding and a depth of feeling that unsettled him more than the idea of being a father. George acted instinctively. He parted her lips in a soft kiss that firmed and deepened. His eyes grew heavy with passion, but Alicia's never closed. He asked, "Am I getting too comfortable?"

"No. I just want to go into this with my eyes open."

She wasn't talking about a kiss. She meant the relationship. "Me too," said George, rubbing his mouth gently against hers.

Her lips curved. "Are you trying to make me feel better again?"

"Is it working?"

"Yes." She kissed him, her eyes growing cloudy while their tongues created a sweet friction.

With eyes open, George was visually stimulated in a way that became intensely physical. He pulled back. Alicia looked at him with a question in her eyes. He said, "I'm trying not to be selfish and inconsiderate."

Her smile was worth any amount of frustration. "It's a big bed," she said, eyes sparkling. "We could take opposite sides."

"Do you trust me to stay on my side?" George's jaw dropped when Alicia yanked back the curtain and rolled off the mattress. She bounced upward, laughing. He lunged to drag her back onto the bed. "Are you mental? What if I'd cast the wrong spell?" He pinned her beneath him.

"You didn't. I trusted you."

"You shouldn't." He set his mouth to hers in a kiss that made no pretence of tenderness. George wasn't coaxing a response. He demanded one, caressing Alicia's body in ways that had her moving restlessly. When her fingers clutched his shoulders, he pressed closer. "I could do what I want and not consider your feelings."

"I still trust you."

She was using her doe-eyed look on him. He levered himself off her and sat up to remove his shirt. "Here." George tossed her the shirt as he climbed off the bed. "Put that on while I go get us a drink. If we're going to sleep on opposite sides, you're going to cover up as much as possible."

"I'd like pumpkin juice."

He responded with a terse nod. He needed Firewhisky.

In the lounge, Angelina's boyfriend was rifling through the drinks cabinet. The guy was wearing a robe, but that didn't prevent George from feeling self-conscious about being half-dressed. He lifted boxes of inventory, not weights. "What are you looking for?" he asked, idly curious. The bar seemed well stocked.

"Bottled water."

George picked up a tumbler. "_Aguamenti." _Water filled the glass. "I learned that the beginning of sixth year," he said. "Didn't you?"

"No. I had a lot on my mind sixth year. Charms class wasn't a priority." He swept a hand at the cabinet. "May I offer you a drink?"

Angelina's boyfriend stood much taller than George. It was irritating to have to look up to meet his eyes. "Pumpkin juice and a Firewhisky." He watched the other man reach for a decanter and asked, "How long have you and Angelina been dating?"

"Four months."

"How long have you owned the Harpies? I don't remember reading about the sale."

"Five months, it was private, and technically, I share ownership with my mother."

The pieces clicked in George's head. "You're Blaise Zabini. I recognise you now." He kept his tone even, while he wanted to yell for Angelina to come out and explain why she had a Slytherin boyfriend.

"I recognised you instantly."

"Really? Were you impressed by my exit from school or part of the Inquisitorial Squad?"

"Neither. The swamp, however, was ingenious."

"Your mate Malfoy didn't think so."

"I am not Draco Malfoy. His opinions are not mine and neither are his politics."

George had enough manners not to call his host a gobshite. He curtly thanked Zabini for the drinks.

-

Alicia exchanged her clothes for George's t-shirt and ran to the loo. She had started to dry her hands when she heard her name called. She hurried into the bedroom. "You talked to Blaise," she said, taking in the expression on George's face.

He handed her the glass of pumpkin juice. "What the hell is Angelina doing sleeping with the enemy?"

The glass slid through her wet fingers. Juice splashed onto her shirt. "Damn it!" she said, "The war is over. Blaise was a Slytherin, not a Death Eater, and look what you made me do!"

George took the glass and set it on a table next to his Firewhisky and an arrangement of flowers. "What are you doing?" he said sharply.

She had pulled the wet fabric away from her body. "I'm going to use a dry-cleaning spell."

"Not with a baby under there, you're not. Take it off."

Alicia felt a blush warm her cheeks. Silly as it might be, she was _not _taking her shirt off in front of George. "No," she said. "The spell's for fabric. It won't affect the baby."

He jerked the hem. "I know it won't, because you won't be wearing it. Put your arms up or I'll rip the shirt off."

She lifted her arms. The instant the tee was off she crossed them over her chest. "Are you going to be one of those anxious fathers?"

"Probably."

His self-deprecating tone made her heart turn over. "Oh, George," she said, giving him a hug. "Don't get so down on yourself. You'll be a good daddy."

He said, "If I promise to be good tonight, and keep my trousers on, can we sleep in the middle of the bed?"

"Yes."

Alicia didn't reach for the shirt. George didn't reach for the Firewhisky. They drifted off to sleep beneath downy covers, wrapped in each other's arms.

-

* * *

- 

A/N: Is anyone clutching their chest in shock over the lack of a cliffie? Surprised that Angelina cried instead of hexing George with a Jelly Legs? I had to do the unexpected, and there's always the chance for drama next chapter, when the two couples get to spend a little quality time together. The chapter title is from a Peter Gabriel song, and if anyone is wondering, yes, I used versions of HP film actors' names for the romance novel characters. Long time readers might recognise the abandoned warehouse scenario from an R/T fic, while wondering why I never put the first into a story...yet...heh. Newer readers are cordially invited to go read any story of mine they fancy. :D The readers who improved the quality of my week infinitely by reviewing the last chapter were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, AutumnSkys, Bardlover, Bright Green Eyes, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, cream-cheese-girl, ElspethBates, Euraphadriel, Fibinaci, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, galicianphantom, ginnylovesharry07, GraceRichie, hopecraycat, Horsegrad13, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Kates Master, Kathwyn, Legallyblonde79, Lieu Of Flowers, MBP, mackgirl, maraudernumba5, Master Keto, meeh-san, MeIp, MollyCoddles, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, NaginiFay, numba 1 HPFan, PhoenixDreamer55, Ponytail Goddess, QuieraStrawberry9, raindancyr, Sabrina Weasley, sapphire200182, siriuslycoco, sophia666, Sophia Loren, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, taliapony, tambrathegreat, tanpopo no hana, Tara-Yo, The Sugarfaerie, The-Unknown-Halliwell, tiffyrose, ToImagine-ToDream-ToLive, Too.Nice.1108, Twinsmom, undercrisis, Verbally Enhanced, and WhiteGreen.**


	15. More Than a Dream

_In the morning, when deep sleep gave way to less restful slumber, Alicia began to dream..._

_-_

The sound of babies crying made her fight back tears. She startled when the door to the downstairs toilet was yanked open.

"Merlin, Mum! Not again!"

Alicia hastily jammed the cork into the pregnancy test flagon. "Are you all packed?" she asked brightly, avoiding the accusing gaze of her eleven-year-old son. "Your granddad will be here shortly."

"Why isn't Dad driving me to the station? Is he hung-over? And I know what's behind your back. I'm not a kid anymore."

She placed the flagon on a shelf. "I know you're not."

"Mum! Mum! Grandad's here!" a trio of young male voices shouted from the lounge. Alicia bet the boys were at the window, waving.

"Gramma too," said the youngest.

His apprehensive tone made the others laugh.

"Poor Danny."

"She'll pinch his cheeks for sure!"

"Yours, too, Oliver."

"Not me, Rupert. I'm too big. I'm six!"

"Well I'm nine, so to compared to me, you're still little and pinchable."

Alicia stepped into the corridor in time to halt Oliver's attempt to flee. "I don't have time to play hide and seek today. If you want to distract Gramma, ask her if she has any sherbet lemons in her pocketbook."

Her oldest son ruffled his brother's hair. "She'll be too busy looking through her handbag to pinch."

"Always worked for me," said a voice behind them, "and best of all, you get a sherbet lemon!"

Oliver's face lit up. "Dad! You're awake!" He shot his brother a triumphant look. "I told you he wasn't completely arseholed!"

"Fine. He was just rat arsed. That's so much better."

Alicia spoke quickly to forestall an argument. "Quiet! Both of you!" She straightened the collar of school robes. "Apologise to your father and go fetch your trunk."

George accepted his son's apology with a short nod. "Want me to _locomotor_ your trunk?"

"Yes, sir."

Oliver's freckled face lit up. "Can I sit on the trunk while it floats downstairs?"

"If your brother doesn't mind sharing the ride."

The boys rushed upstairs.

"At least I'm good for something," said George, watching them go.

Alicia hugged him. "You're good for lots of things."

"Not last night, I wasn't. I should've never had that beer for the road with Lee and Dean."

"You can always stay in tonight and make it up to me."

His sexy smile never failed to make her heart race. "Put the kids to bed early."

A stomping sound came from the ceiling. "You're being summoned," said Alicia.

George winked before climbing the stairs with as much energy as his sons.

The doorbell rang.

Molly and Arthur weren't beaming the way they usually did to see their grandchildren. Molly's nose was red and her hair was rather unkempt. "Come tell Gramma what you've been up to, boys. Granddad needs to talk to Mummy in the kitchen."

Alicia watched her mother-in-law steer the boys toward the sofa while her father-in-law gestured for her to precede him. In the kitchen, she asked, "What's wrong, Arthur?"

He glanced around the room Caper had remodelled when he added the two upstairs bedrooms and bath. "Have you ever wished to live in a proper house with a large garden—in Devon, perhaps?"

"No. We love Diagon Alley. Caper created a bit of garden in the back alley, and there's a park nearby. Why do you ask?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "I do not usually pay heed to the rubbish printed in the Quibbler, but today, when Molly and I stopped by a news stand to purchase a few bars of chocolate for the boys, the headline and photo were too shocking to ignore." He took a copy out of the pocket of his robes, unfolded it, and said, "I fear it cannot be long before identities are revealed."

Alicia's first thought was that George and his friends had danced on the bar to celebrate a Cannon win and ended up doing the Full Monty. The photograph put all images of a naked husband out of her head. The photo was a close-up of a picture spellotaped to a sheet of craft paper. Beneath the picture, "**MY DADDY**" was written on the paper in the large print of a nursery-school child. If the picture had been that of a wizard holding his infant son, the words would neither shock nor inspire a headline. Instead, the picture showed a house-elf holding a newborn human.

It was Caper, holding Daniel.

"A client was paying George to do the fireworks for his wife's birthday," Alicia said dazedly. "He didn't get to the birthing centre in time." She shook her head. "Caper's always been part of the family, but I never realised Danny was so attached." Her stomach twisted. "George will sue the nursery school, but I hope in the end he can laugh it off."

"Laugh it off?" Arthur looked incredulous. "My four-year-old grandson calls a house-elf _Daddy_! That boy is simply not getting the attention he needs from his father. I've seen this coming for years. George spends all his time in that shop while Caper not only takes care of his family—he takes his place!"

Alicia felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment and anger. "Caper plays games with the children and helps with their studies, but he is NOT their father." She narrowed her eyes. "And you'd better not be implying otherwise."

Arthur flushed beet red. "I would never do such a vile thing—but I don't put it past The Quibbler!"

"What don't you put past The Quibbler?" George had entered the room. He looked at them quizzically.

Alicia said, "You show him, Arthur. I'll herd the boys downstairs." On the way out of the kitchen, she kissed George's cheek. "We'll talk later, love."

Molly, in a similar manner to what she must have done with her own brood in the past, had managed to get the boys to put on their trainers. On the way down to the car, she whispered to Alicia, "Danny said his daddy had already made sure he'd used the toilet. I was afraid to ask who he meant!"

Alicia bit her tongue. As much as she appreciated her mother-in-law, sometimes she wanted to tell her to stop being a silly witch.

The group piled into the enchanted car, with Arthur, George, and Molly riding in the front. When they parked at the station, George said, "Danny, hold Daddy's hand. I don't want lose you in the crowd."

Alicia breathed a sigh of relief when the boy reached for his father's hand after only the slightest hesitation.

It was a wrench to send her child off to school, to watch the Hogwarts Express pull out of the station. Alicia was still blinking back tears when Rupert said, "I'll be all alone in my room tonight. I've never been alone before."

"You can sleep with us if you want to," said Oliver.

"No! I'm not a baby." After a few seconds, Rupert said, "But if you two want to sleep in my room, that'd be okay."

Alicia and George exchanged smiles.

On their return to Diagon Alley, Arthur and Molly took the older boys to Fortesque's ice cream parlour, promising to bring Danny home a hot fudge sundae.

"I want to go too," said Danny.

George knelt down. "I know, son, but Mummy and I need to talk to you."

Upstairs, Danny's eyes grew round when George showed him the Quibbler front page. "That's me!"

Alicia tried to gently explain why he should not have written "MY DADDY" beneath the photograph.

Danny's expression turned stubborn. "That's silly. Joey Jenkins has a father and a daddy too."

Joey Jenkins Sr. had divorced his wife to marry his secretary. Mrs. Jenkins had since remarried. George told his son that was different, and he was both daddy and father.

"No you're not. Daddies play games. Daddies read stories. Joey said so."

George looked as though someone had punched him in the stomach. "I want to play games with you."

"Really?"

"I'll take the day off. We'll go to the park and play Frisbee."

"Fanged Frisbee?" Danny grinned when George nodded. "Wow! I'll tell Joey I have _two_ daddies!"

Alicia fought the urge to laugh. "Darling, Caper is our friend, and we love him dearly, but you only have one father—one daddy."

"Oh."

Danny's obvious disappointment, and George's look of hurt, prompted Alicia to say, "Why don't you two go have lunch with the others." She kissed Danny's forehead. "Then you won't have to wait for ice cream!"

"Come with us," said George.

"I'm not hungry." The thought of food made her queasy, was more like it, but Alicia wasn't ready to have that conversation. "I'll go give Caper a hand in the shop."

He kissed her lightly on the lips. "Thanks."

Alicia retrieved the Quibbler from the kitchen and brought it with her. She waited until there was a lull with no customers to show it to Caper. The elf stared down at the photograph. "Mister George. He is angry?"

"At himself. Not you. You've done so much for our family."

"Too much?"

Alicia tried to smile. "Can you do too much for those you love?"

Caper's fingers smoothed over the paper. "Yes."

The sadness in his voice made the tears she'd been repressing spill over.

He patted her on the shoulder. "Is you needing tea and toast?" He might as well have said, "Are you pregnant?"

She wiped her eyes, nodding.

A tea tray appeared on the counter.

Later that evening, after they put the boys to bed in Rupert's room, Alicia followed George into their bedroom, smiling to see the contentment on his face. "We've got great kids," he said. "I was an idiot to put work before my family. I won't do that anymore." He laughed as he told her something he'd forgotten to share with her earlier about his day with the boys.

The temptation to prolong this happy moment was strong. It was times like these, when his eyes gleamed with humour and his grin brought an answering smile to her face, which got her through the darker moments. The joy she felt in his company and in his arms reminded Alicia why she'd married George.

She loved him.

So much, that when he kissed her, it literally made her ache to pull away from his embrace.

"Come back here," he murmured.

Alicia backed away. "I have something to show you."

George waggled his eyebrows. "Did you pop over to Siren's Secret while we were at the park? Damn, how much better can this day get?"

"I'll be right back."

Her husband had stripped down to boxer-briefs by the time she returned. He chuckled. "That was fast. Is what you bought so sexy, you put your clothes back on in case one of the kids wandered downstairs?"

Alicia showed him the flagon she'd been hiding behind her back.

George's gaze was instantly riveted to the pink vapour swirling inside the clear glass. "That's not an aphrodisiac potion, is it?"

"No. It's one of the new pregnancy tests."

"So...we're going to have a girl?"

Alicia pulled the cork from the flagon. The room was filled with the sound of babies crying. "Twins."

George ran a hand through his hair. "Twins? Caper will have to add another room."

"Diagon Alley building restrictions won't allow it."

Her husband's expression was tight. "Then—"

"We have to use Fred's old room."

"NO!"

"Yes," Alicia said softly. "Don't you think he'd want his nieces to have his room?" She swallowed hard and said, "Don't you think it's time you let go? It's been—"

"I know how long it's been! Do you think I could forget? I'll never do that—_never!" _George slammed out of the room.

Alicia knew where to find him. He was standing by the bed in Fred's room, staring at the poster-sized picture of the shop. In the enlarged photograph, two brothers stood to the side of the shop window, identical smiles on their faces. She said, "I'm not asking you to forget Fred, just to remember that your family needs you." She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Can't you put us first?"

-

_George awoke__ to find Alicia plastered against him. She caressed his body, pressing kisses to his chest as she murmured, "Can't you try, George? Please...please..."_

_Her eyes were closed. __He bit back a groan. Was it morally wrong to let a woman molest him in her sleep? George decided to wake her so he could put his hands on her in good conscience. Before he could call Alicia's name, she whispered three words that rendered him speechless._

_"I love you."_

* * *

- 

A/N: Sometimes, you outline what you plan to write in a chapter, and then when you start to write, that outline gets pushed back, because the needs of the characters change your plans. :D Usually, the dream sequence is italicised, and "reality" not, but in this case, since Alicia didn't "dream a little dream", I chose the style least likely to give beloved readers eyestrain! For those who looked forward to the couples spending time together, I assure you that dream sequences cannot stop reluctant male bonding. The most it can do is delay it awhile. And for those of you smiling over the names of the boys and the Princess Bride usage, yes, yes, you're very smart. ;)

Those readers who were not only smart, but kind and generous enough to review the last chapter were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alatariel5079, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, AutumnSkys, Bardlover, Bright Green Eyes, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, cream-cheese-girl, ElspethBates, Euraphadriel, EvilSatsuma, Fibinaci, FlameintheFlood, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, galicianphantom, ginnylovesharry07, GraceRichie, Guaja, hopecraycat, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Kates Master, Kathwyn, Lieu Of Flowers, MBP, mackgirl, meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Morkhan, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, PhoenixDreamer55, RahNee, Sabrina Weasley, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Sophia Loren, Squealing Lit. Fan, StarsInTheSky123, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, tanpopo no hana, Tara-Yo, The Sugarfaerie, The-Unknown-Halliwell, tiffyrose, ToImagine-ToDream-ToLive, Too.Nice.1108 **and **VioletPastPrime.**


	16. He Said, She Said

Alicia loved him. He'd just heard her say it in her sleep. George stared up at the ceiling. How he was supposed to react?

_Well, you could roll off the bed and run screaming from the room._

"Fred's" voice made George clench his teeth. That wasn't what he meant. Should he wake her up?

_Depends. Are you waking her to talk about feelin__gs, or hoping she'll stop tugging at the waistband of your trousers and start unfastening them? _

George tensed. He couldn't talk about feelings. He wanted Alicia in his life and cared for her deeply, but the thought of a heavy discussion gave him the chills. As for making love, he'd promised to keep his trousers on, so that was out of the question.

_Then pretend you didn't hear and go back to sleep._

George huffed in wry amusement. Like that was mentally or physically possible.

Alicia's restless movements stilled. "George?" she whispered.

He closed his eyes and acted as though he was half-asleep. "Mmm?"

"I had a dream."

George felt a pang of guilt when he remembered her begging, "_Can't you try, George?" _He smoothed Alicia's hair away from her face. "A bad dream? I'm sorry."

"It was sad more than anything else."

He didn't want to ask, but decency made him say, "Do—uh—do you want to talk about it?"

George could "hear" Fred snort. _That sounded so enthusiastic. How could she resist? _

"No. It's all right. It was only a dream."

_Who is she trying to convince, you or her?_

George was pretty sure the answer was both. He shifted their positions, looking down into eyes that were dark and searching. Was she looking for reassurance? He bent to kiss her softly. "Let me make you forget that dream." The next kiss was firmer, more persuasive. "I'll keep my trousers on."

"You don't have to."

He kissed her lingeringly, and kept kissing her, until Alicia's hands clung to his body the way her mouth clung to his lips. "I want to," he said, tracing her curves with his fingertips. "Please," he whispered, caressing more boldly. "Please."

Her laugh was a breathy exhalation. "I meant you don't have to keep your trousers on."

George rolled to the side so vigorously he slipped off the edge of the bed. He didn't bounce. "Oomph!"

Alicia scrambled off the mattress to kneel beside him. "Are you okay?"

_Tell her your skull's too thick to crack that easily._

He chuckled. "Yes, but to prevent further injury, maybe you should take off my trousers."

Her soft laughter shook her torso in a way he appreciated almost as much as her sense of humour and her caring. George reached for Alicia, determined to make her forget that he had ever made her sad.

-

When he awoke later, she was gone. George stretched out his hand. The sheets felt cold. His stomach clenched.

_Don't go thinking Alicia's left you. She's probably having breakfast with Angelina. _

George's stomach rumbled. Breakfast with the girls sounded ace to him. He could be polite to the Slytherin if his mouth was full of food. He slid out of bed and looked for his clothes. Instead of lying wrinkled on the floor, they had been placed in a tidy stack on the chaise lounge, except for his shirt. It had been replaced with a Holyhead Harpies tee.

_You're not actually going to wear that in public, are you? __It's green, with a gold talon on the chest. You'll look like a bloody leprechaun!_

George sniggered at the idea. He was a Cannons fan, through and through. Since Alicia was probably wearing his shirt, he'd wear this one at breakfast and then ask her to switch. After pulling the tee over his head, he glanced at the mirror and grinned. If he looked like a leprechaun, then leprechauns were damned good-looking!

His smile vanished faster than leprechaun gold when he entered the lounge to find Blaise Zabini was the only one sitting at the breakfast table.

_Surprise, surprise, he's wearing black—not a Harpies tee. Doesn't that get your Irish up?_

"Angelina and Alicia have gone shopping. They'll meet us at the stadium at eleven."

In the back of George's mind, he heard his brother sing an Irish drinking song. He ignored the rousing chorus of "we'll drink, and drink, and drink, and drink" to say, "You didn't have to stay behind. I could've found my way there."

Zabini inclined his head. "No doubt." He picked up the carafe of coffee, poured a cup for George, and refilled his own. "I didn't wish to intrude upon their time together."

Handsome, rich, thoughtful; George wondered if Alicia thought Angelina was lucky to have such a boyfriend.

On cue, "Fred" sang lustily, _and drink, and drink, and fight!_

George sat down. "Thank you," he said, adding sugar to his coffee. He looked at the breakfast dishes on the table and blinked in surprise. What was this?

"Angelina thought you might like to try a traditional Tanzanian breakfast. The porridge is sorghum. You eat it with yoghurt and sugar." Zabini pointed. "Those are plantain spears, and the other dish is white sweet potatoes and taro."

George had never thought his friend's beads had any kind of cultural significance. Hungry enough to try anything, he sampled each dish, although he chose to add extra sugar and no yoghurt to his porridge. "This is good," he said with a trace of surprise, before realising how rude that might sound. To cover, he took another helping of plantains. "So Angelina's family is from Tanzania?"

"Mine is. My mother is from Zanzibar. She met my father while he was staying at her family's hotel on Unguja." Zabini smiled. "We visit every July," he said, "and this year, Angelina came with us."

Geography had never been his strong point, but George knew Zanzibar was a cluster of tropical islands famous for white sand beaches and spices. The thought of Angelina splashing in the Indian Ocean with her Slytherin boyfriend raised his hackles. She and Fred might not have been going together, but everyone knew how close the two were. Zabini had taken advantage of her grief!

_The way Alicia took advantage of yours?_

George almost said "shut up" aloud. He bit back the words, but Zabini saw his mouth open and close. He said, "I've admired Angelina for a long time. I won't apologise." Dignified as some African ruler, he said, "A Swahili proverb says it is not theft to take what another man casts upon the sea."

"Is there a proverb about grave robbers?"

"Not that I recall, but Muggles say _adhabu ya kaburi aijua maiti_, the torture of the grave is only known by the corpse." Zabini's tone softened. "When my father died, I took comfort that wizards are not tortured by death. We find peace beyond the veil."

George set his fork on the plate. "I heard the same platitudes, but I didn't find it comforting."

"Perhaps one day you will."

"Perhaps we could change the subject." Before he asked who had assured Zabini that his father was at peace. A black-robed wizard paid to solemnise funerals? Dalila Zabini, who profited from her husbands' deaths and—according to Kingsley Shacklebolt—would have faced trial if he had been given time to investigate instead of being reassigned to protect the Muggle Prime Minister?

"Very well," said Blaise. "If you're finished with breakfast, would you care to fly a few laps before the team has practice?"

Who would say no to that? "Yeah, sure."

In the lift, curiosity prompted George to ask, "Did your mother buy the Harpies because Holyhead is on an island?"

"Anglesey is nothing like Zanzibar," Zabini said with a faint smile. He shook his head. "She bought the team because only females are allowed primary ownership. She's the main shareholder, but it's my club. I run it." He shrugged. "My mother prefers managing her investments, including a hotel overlooking Trearddur Bay. You and Alicia are welcome as our guests. Angelina has often spoken of asking friends to visit."

_Her friends, not his, I'd bet. Can you see Angelina making small talk with Malfoy, Parkinson, or Pucey?_

George grinned at the thought. "Thanks."

Zabini noticeably relaxed. "Any time," he said with a smile.

The lift had reached the first floor. The doors opened. George was still fighting back a laugh when someone called his name. He stepped into the lobby to see Lee Jordan standing with a couple of players for the Harpies. Lee held a recordbrall in his upraised hand, as if he'd been interviewing the Beaters. His friend was staring at him in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

_He thinks you're mates with Zabini now. Told you not to wear that tee_.

George didn't like the accusatory tone in Lee's voice. It made him contrary. "Blaise and I are meeting Alicia and Angelina at the stadium," he said, as though it hadn't been an effort to use the Slytherin's first name. "Maybe we'll see you there." He smiled at the women. "Go Harpies!"

Lee wouldn't let it go. "But you support the Cannons!"

"The Harpies aren't playing the Cannons," George said lightly. "They're playing the Wasps. You should know that. You're the commentator." He strolled across the lobby, aware that the man walking beside him was eyeing him speculatively.

"Lee Jordan—he was your friend at Hogwarts."

"He's still my friend, but his opinions don't run my life."

"That is something else we have in common."

"That's nice, Bl—is there something I can call you besides Blaise? I knew a girl named Blaise once."

"My middle name is Jabari—Swahili for valiant."

George made a face. "Okay, _Blaise, _how are we getting to the stadium?"

The Slytherin led the way to a side corridor. At the end, two wizards stood guarding an exit, broomsticks in hand. One stepped forward.

Blaise took the racing broom and handed it to George. "We fly."

George looked at the Firebolt, speaking in unison with the voice inside his head.

_"__Cool."_

-

Alicia awoke when she heard a soft tap on the door. The warmth of George's body pressed against her back was hard to leave, but she slid out from beneath his arm and left the bed. Her friend wouldn't be waking her unless it was important. She cracked open the door. "Good morning."

"D'you want to come out and have breakfast—talk?"

"Sure." They had a lot to talk about.

Angelina shoved a green tee through the opening. "I would've got George one too, but I know he'd never wear it."

They shared a smile over George's fanatical support of the Cannons. "I'll get dressed and be right out," said Alicia. She found her bra and performed a dry-cleaning spell before putting it on, blowing a kiss to her sleeping boyfriend. When she put on the t-shirt, Alicia had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing at the way the Harpies logo stretched across her chest. She picked up George's black shirt. "I could wear mine, but I'd rather wear yours, so you get the tee, love," she whispered, cleaning and folding his clothes before taking hers into the bathroom.

Angelina was standing beside a window gazing out when Alicia walked into the lounge. "You shower quickly. If you ever want to be flatmates, I'll get rid of my team-mates."

"You and Blaise don't live together?"

"Almost, but I'd never hear the end of it if my mother found out, so I keep the flat." Angelina looked her over. "You didn't like the tee?"

"I left it for George. This fits better."

Angelina's gold and green beads clinked together. "He'll never wear the tee."

"He will if I'm not here to give him back his shirt. Let's go out," said Alicia. "Do some shopping—have our talk with no men around."

"Good idea. I'll go tell Blaise we're leaving."

Thirty minutes later, they were sitting in a café, giggling over the fact that it had taken three tries to find an establishment with seating that was well-spaced enough that they wouldn't have to whisper to have a private conversation. "Third time's the charm," said Alicia, after ordering tea and a bagel. She listened enviously as Angelina ordered the same and then added strawberries, a side of yoghurt, and an omelette.

"I'm an athlete," Angelina said after the server returned to the kitchen. "I have to fuel my body to prevent fatigue and injuries." She pointed her finger at Alicia. "You are having half my strawberries, though, because you are eating for two and I'm not having a godchild get that Muggle disease—skurty."

"It's _scurvy, _and that won't be a problem. I just can't stomach much first thing in the morning." She smiled. "You really want to be the godmother?"

"I'll take a bat and Bludger to any witch who tries to edge me out."

For some odd reason, Alicia had to blink back tears. "That's so sweet."

Angelina laughed. "That's pregnancy hormones talking. I'm avoiding those like dragon pox until I retire."

"When will that be?"

"Ten years or a disabling injury, whichever comes first."

Alicia's eyebrows arched. "Does Blaise know about this?"

"Why would he? He's my boyfriend, not my husband. I don't know if we'll be going together in ten months, much less ten years. He's only eighteen, for Merlin's sake!"

Her friend sounded defensive. Alicia tried to placate. "He seems very mature...and very serious about you."

Angelina started playing with the cutlery, precisely aligning the knife and fork. "We're monogamous while it lasts, that was the deal. Blaise knows how I felt about Fred. He knows I can't handle anything more than we have right now." She glanced up with a wry smile. "It's a big step for me to introduce him as my boyfriend." Her gaze shifted. The server was approaching with a teapot. Angelina asked, "Miss, is that decaffeinated tea?"

"Erm, no."

"It's fine," Alicia said firmly. She waited until the girl scurried off to give Angelina a warning look. "Come between me and Earl Grey in the morning, and you'll be the one dodging Bludgers." She cradled her teacup protectively. "It's tea, not coffee. One cup won't hurt."

Angelina seemed sceptical. "You'd better ask a midwitch about that. I've heard caffeine causes your bones to lose calcium and makes it harder to absorb iron."

"Really?" Alicia set her teacup down. "I'll have to find a midwitch and make an appointment." She looked down at her tea. "There are so many decisions to make. It's overwhelming." She picked up the cup and drank, thinking, _sorry, baby, mummy needed that._

"Let George help."

Alicia eyed the teapot. There was at least another cup in there. Couldn't she drink it and make it up to the baby later with a glass of milk?

Angelina called, "_Miss?_ Could you take this away and bring us both a glass of orange juice?" She turned back to Alicia. "No more caffeine for you." She narrowed her eyes. "You're not planning to have this baby by yourself, are you?"

"No! George wants the baby." Alicia thought of his threat to rip her shirt off and smiled. "He's very protective."

"Has he asked you to marry him?"

Alicia didn't answer until their server had placed their glasses of juice on the table and removed the teapot. "Not yet."

"So you think he will?"

"Eventually. He's old fashioned in some ways." Ways she loved.

"Of course you'll say yes."

Alicia remembered her dream and said, "No."

-

* * *

A/N: **Jambo! **Hello! To get one's Irish up means to get angry, not meant to imply the Weasleys are Irish. Flogging Molly is the band with the Irish Drinking Song with the same refrain as the wizard one Fred sang. :D I couldn't resist, any more than I could keep from using the Girl!Blaise line. (Those of you who've read Matchmakers, I hope you smiled, and those who haven't...if you ever get the urge to read an alternate sixth year D/G epic...LOL) Since Jo never gave the "famously beautiful witch" Mrs. Zabini a name, I chose Dalila. (Yes, related to the infamous Delilah, but in Swahili it means delicate, gentle. I leave it to readers to wonder if it's ironic...or if she's more sinned against than sinning.) I also made up the Swahili proverb, after reading **Usione vinaelea vimeundwa—**if you see it floating on the sea it means it has been made (whatever you see is made by someone.) Nice proverb, and inspiring, heh. 

Readers who made me say **Nimefurahi sana!** I am very happy! last week when they reviewed were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alatariel5079, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, AutumnSkys, Bardlover, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, cream-cheese-girl, donalddeutsch, Drunken Little Monkey, ElspethBates, Euraphadriel, Fibinaci, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, ginnylovesharry07, GraceRichie, Guaja, hopecraycat, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Kates Master, Kathwyn (who if she trusts me with her email, will only be thanked, not spammed. :D), Lieu Of Flowers, mahlee, maraudernumba5, MBP, meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Morkhan, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, PhoenixDreamer55, Ponytail Goddess, Sabrina Weasley, siriusblack18, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, siriuslycoco, Slipknot-3113, Snuffles7, sofia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, StarsInTheSky123, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, The Sugarfaerie, tiffyrose, Too.Nice.1108, Verbally Enhanced **and **VioletPastPrime.**

**Mpaka baadaye**! Until later! Which is just another way to say thanks to **alix33, **I'm writing a Blaise/Angelina one shot called **_Chasing Angelina_ **that should post soon, so I hope readers will be on the lookout for it. If you do a search, you'll find that currently there are no romance B/A fics, so mine won't be hard to find. :D


	17. About a Boy

George was flying a figure eight formation around the goalposts when he spied two tiny figures walking onto the pitch. He grinned. Breaking off the double eight loop Ginny had taught him, he aimed his broomstick toward the manicured grass, intending to give Alicia a ride around the stadium.

His stomach dropped when he realised she held a racing broom. He cast a _Sonorous_ charm in record time. "Stay right there!"

Angelina had already risen in a vertical lift. She sat on her broom, Quaffle in hand, yelling as he passed, "What's wrong?"

George was too busy pulling up for a hard, fast landing to answer. He stalked toward his girlfriend. "You're pregnant! You can't play Quidditch! What if you fell?"

Alicia shook her head. "I wouldn't—"

"—you can't know that," he said angrily. "People die in accidents every day."

_My death wasn't an accident; _he heard Fred's voice say. _The bastard was trying to kill me._

George yanked her broom out of her hand and tossed it aside. He put his hand on her abdomen, splaying his fingers possessively. "I'm not losing you or the baby."

"No, you're not," Alicia said softly. "I only planned to fly a couple of metres above the ground." She placed her hand over his. "I would never endanger our baby."

"I'm the one practicing Quidditch," Angelina called from above. "Blaise plays Keeper while I score a few goals to loosen up before a match." She leaned over her racing broom, speeding toward the wizard "keeping" the centre goal.

George looked at Alicia. "I was going to offer you a ride around the stadium."

Her mouth curved into a tiny smile. "Are you still offering?"

"Yes."

She moved closer. "Do you want to put your arms around me, or do you want me to put my arms around you?"

_You can have it both ways if__ she sits facing you. _

Was that his thought, or "Fred's"?

_Sometimes, brother, we think as one._

"Sit behind me," said George. "That way I won't be..."

_Tempted? _

It was too easy to imagine Fred waggling his brows. "Distracted," George said firmly.

"Okay."

After they had positioned themselves and broomstick began to rise, he said, "You're thinking I had an 'anxious father' moment, aren't you?"

Alicia pressed against his back as they smoothly glided forward. "I'm glad you're protective." He felt her lips brush the hair by his good ear. "And I think you look handsome in green."

"Why didn't you wear the shirt?"

The hands that had rested lightly against his chest pulled at the fabric. "It was too tight on me."

George looked down and laughed. "Man baps would not be an attractive look for me."

Alicia's arms tightened around him. "You know I was demonstrating!"

He imagined her curves displayed in a skin-tight shirt. "Maybe you could wear the tee when we're not going out."

"How about I leave off my bra and step into the shower while I'm at it?"

_A cold shower? I like the way she thinks!_

Even though she couldn't see him, George knew Alicia could hear the smile in his voice. "If you're going for the wet tee look, I'd rather you wear white."

He could feel her chest shaking. "What am I going to do with you, George Weasley?"

They had almost completed a lap of the pitch. He brought Alicia back to where they had started, waiting until they stood facing each other to ask, "What do you want to do with me?" George tried to speak lightly, even though he tensed in anticipation. She might mention marriage. Even though she'd promised things didn't have to change right away, what girl wanted to have a baby bump poking out beneath her wedding robes? He could force himself to do the right thing.

He heard his brother snort. _Big of you. _

Alicia said, "I want to watch a Quidditch match!"

In the back of his mind, ghostly laughter rang out.

George ignored it, accompanying the others to the Top Box, where the pasty-faced owner of the Wasps stood talking to a stunning black woman.

"Mother, Mr. Whelan, I'd like to introduce Alicia Spinnet and George Weasley," said Blaise.

Whelan nodded briefly while Mrs. Zabini expressed her delight to meet her son's friends, greeted Angelina cordially, and invited them to share the lunch that "Andrew has kindly provided."

"But not yet, Dalila," said Whelan. "I'm expecting another guest."

Blaise and his mother traded guarded looks. George wondered what that meant, even as he noticed that the elegant table in the back corner was set for eight. What kind of special guest required two seats: Horace Slughorn?

He found out when the Minister for Magic walked into the box. Two guards checked the area for Dark magic while the minister's personal assistant jotted down George and Alicia's names into what looked like an appointment diary.

"If I invite you over for a beer after work, will the guards come too?" George asked jokingly, after Kingsley had thanked Whelan for his invitation and greeted the others.

"If they're on duty, Auror Smith and Auror Anderson will wait outside after verifying that the building is secure," Kingsley said with a smile that transformed his dignified mien. His dark gaze transferred to Alicia. "You're looking well."

"Thanks to you, sir." Alicia saw George's upraised brow and said, "I got pinned by rubble during the battle. Auror Shacklebolt—"

"Kingsley."

She smiled at the Minister. "Kingsley freed me."

"I didn't know." George had a vague memory of Alicia cradling her left elbow. He reached out to stroke his hand down her arm. "Were you badly hurt? You don't have any scars."

Her cheeks turned pink. "I was fine after a few healing charms."

George chuckled. Was she embarrassed? When Alicia's pregnancy began to show, everyone would know he had done a lot more than see her naked.

_Looking forward to that, are you?_

Strange how the voice in his head could sound so knowing, when George didn't know what the hell "Fred" was talking about. In order to drown out faint echoes of sniggering, he said, "Do you miss being an Auror, Kingsley?"

"At times."

Mrs. Zabini asked in her husky, pleasantly accented voice, "You miss the excitement of the chase?"

During the pause in conversation, George remembered Kingsley bitterly complaining about being taken off the Zabini case. He also recalled Fred smirking.

_You made a copy of the file, eh? Including pictures?_

_"Yes."_

_P__ore over it at home, do you?_

_Kingsley frowned. __"Occasionally."_

_Winking at George, Fred asked, "How many of those photos are bikini shots?"_

_"Thr—that is of no relevance."_

_George and Fred burst into laughter._

Kingsley's deep, slow voice had the same, remembered edge to it when he said, "If I crave excitement, I can always reopen an unsolved case."

Whelan, visibly uncomfortable with the tone of the conversation, said, "Excellent, and now I believe lunch is served."

George followed Alicia, hurrying to pull out her chair when he glimpsed Blaise doing the same for Angelina. Seated between Alicia and Angelina, he listened to his girlfriend chat with Laurence, the personal assistant. On any other day, George would have enjoyed the posh food and found the undercurrents swirling around the table amusing.

On this day, he kept sneaking glances at Alicia, consumed with a single thought.

_What if she doesn't want to marry me?_

-

* * *

A/N: (cups hand to ear to better hear the ghostly echoes of readers saying 'Where's the rest of the chapter!' ) I know it's short...1235 words, to be exact...but no matter what the Rolling Stones sing, time wasn't on my side this week. Readers in the States will be very aware that Thanksgiving is approaching, that holiday where people travel to eat turkey. :D I'm one of those people, but before I leave, I pinky promise to write Alicia's pov and post it by Tuesday! 

**Special thanks to everyone who R&R'd Chasing Angelina! **The readers whose reviews of the last chapter I'll number among my blessings this Thanksgiving (although not out loud, because my family would look at me funny, heh) are...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, Alatariel5079, Alone All Along, angelbaby-323, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, AutumnSkys, Bardlover, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, dancegirl01mom, Drunken Little Monkey, ElspethBates, Euraphadriel, Fibinaci, Final Fantasy VM, FlameintheFlood, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, herb3, JasperisMYeverything, Kates Master, kathwyn, Lieu Of Flowers, maraudernumba5, MBP, Meeh-san, mikey, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Morkhan, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, Obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, RahNee, Sabrina Weasley, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Snuffles7, sofia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, taliapony, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, tiffyrose, Too.Nice.1108, **and **twindevils.**


	18. About a Girl

Alicia did her best to enjoy the day, but it was hard to stay focused on Quidditch when George seemed to watch her more than the match. Several times, she'd turned to her boyfriend after cheering one of Angelina's goals, only to find him looking at her speculatively. It was unsettling.

The concentrated, almost brooding expression on his face put her nerves on edge, even as butterflies flew double eight loops in her stomach. She didn't know what to think. He was getting what he wanted. She wasn't pressuring him to put a ring on her finger. She wanted emotional changes over situational, and was willing to wait any amount of time needed for that to happen. Didn't he understand that?

Blaise made a comment about Angelina's flying—some technique they'd perfected since the last match. Since it didn't seem that George was going to reply, Alicia asked a few questions to be polite.

While she listened attentively and nodded in the right places, Alicia could feel George's intent gaze. His lips turned down slightly. Did he think she was being too friendly? Was he jealous? It reminded her of third year, and a chat she'd had with Oliver Wood in the common room...

_She'd only __stopped Oliver to ask if he thought she had a chance to make the team instead of being a reserve player that year. Alicia never dreamt he pull her over to the side and talk her ear off about his ambitions for the team. She tried not to let her eyes glaze over or say "oh, wow," too often._

_The envious glances thrown her way by other girls made her fight back giggles. Did they think he was chatting her up? _

_Alicia was startled when Oliver touched her cheek with a fingertip. "Never knew you had dimples," he said. _

_Across the room, Jack Sloper shouted, "Hey, Wood, Kirke's selling his extra set of Quidditch Cards!"_

_"I call Puddlemere United!" Oliver smiled at Alicia. "Good talking to you, Spinnet."_

_Her__ face grew warm as she watched him walk off. She might not fancy Oliver, but that didn't mean she wasn't aware that he was fanciable. _

_She heard a snort. __"He didn't KNOW you had dimples? What is he, blind?" George Weasley was standing behind her, shaking his head in disgust. _

_Next to George, his brother Fred grinned. "Maybe he's thick as a block of wood."_

_Alicia lifted her chin. __"Maybe he's never been close enough to notice."_

_George made a noise of disbelief__. "I can see your dimples across a room. They're like bloody craters!"_

_Alicia's face grew hot. "Craters?"_

_Fred spluttered with laughter. "Merlin, brother, was I given the looks AND the tact? Call them delicate hollows."_

_George made a face. "Have you been reading mum's romance novels on the sly? Who talks like that?" He took a step toward Alicia. "I didn't say your dimples were ugly. They're pretty. Okay?"_

_He looked angry, embarrassed, and something she couldn't define that made her heart pound. All at once, she knew why girls met boys in the library to snog. She wanted to kiss him more than she wanted to breathe. "Okay." _

With the memory lingering at the back of her mind, Alicia did what she hadn't been bold enough to do third year. She leaned over to set her lips to George's sulky mouth. He kissed her back, sliding his fingers through her hair to cradle her head in his hands. The arm of the chair pressed into her side. Lee Jordan's voice rang out as he declared Yankley had caught the Snitch. Harpies fans cheered. Alicia didn't care. She was being kissed in a way that made her want to melt—or climb onto George's lap.

Next to Alicia, Blaise chuckled. "I've heard of a victory dances and victory laps, but not victory snogs."

She pulled back, smoothing down her hair while George said, "That's because Angelina's flying round the pitch instead of standing here in the box."

Blaise smiled slightly. "You're right. Gryffindors are boldly affectionate." His tone abruptly cooled. "Are you leaving, Minister? It was a pleasure to meet you."

Kingsley stood flanked by his guards. "Likewise," he said, with an unreadable glance towards Dalila Zabini. His eyes warmed when he said, "Alicia, George, it was good seeing you again."

George shook Kingsley's hand. "Drop by for a beer anytime."

"Your calendar is filled until January," the personal assistant called from the open doorway to the box.

"I'll make time soon," said Kingsley.

The Wasps owner accompanied his guest to ensure the press didn't "bother" him.

"I think Whelan wants to make sure he's photographed with the Minister," Blaise said dryly.

Mrs. Zabini said, "Be gracious to defeated opponents, my son._"_

Blaise lifted a brow. "And when graciousness encourages an opponent to challenge me again?"

His mother looked away, toward the doorway of the box. "Rise to the challenge."

Alicia was riveted by the underlying drama running beneath the surface of the conversation. Like anyone who had ever read _Quibbler _headlines while waiting in a queue at the corner market, she knew the "famously beautiful" Mrs. Zabini had been questioned by Magical Law Enforcement concerning her husbands' deaths. What she hadn't known was that the Auror department—and Kingsley—had investigated her too. She glanced at George to see if he was equally fascinated.

He was covering a yawn. "Whew! This has been a long day. Congratulate Angelina for us, Blaise, and thank you for inviting us."

"You are welcome, and I'll show you to Whelan's private Floo."

George blinked. "There's a Floo? Why didn't we use it earlier?"

Blaise smiled. "Flying is more fun."

Alicia was amused by the dumbfounded expression on her boyfriend's face. It was as though he couldn't believe a Slytherin would choose enjoyment over convenience. When they reached the private office where the Floo was located, George shook off his amazement to tell her, "We'll go to my flat."

"I can't," she said. "I need to go home and talk to my mum. She'll be worried."

"About what?"

Alicia bit her lip, glancing at Blaise.

Thoughtfully, he said, "I'll go give Angelina your congratulations," and left the room.

George stared at Alicia with an "I'm waiting" look on his face.

She said, "Before I left, Mum asked me not to do anything rash. Since I didn't come home last night, she's bound to worry..."

"That you'd hurt yourself? That's mad. You'd never do that!"

George's anger on her behalf was so endearing, Alicia almost smiled. "No," she said. "She'll worry that we've eloped."

"Eloped?"

She shrugged awkwardly. "Silly, isn't it?"

"Why is it silly?"

"Because we're living in modern times," she said slowly, unable to read his expression. "People don't get married because they're going to have a baby."

"They don't?"

"No, they wait until the time is right."

"And when will the time be right?"

In the hotel, George had seemed relieved that things between them would remain the same. Now he was acting as if she was the one who had a hard time dealing with change! Alicia's throat felt tight. "I don't_ know._"

A muscle flexed in George's jaw. "Do I get any say in the matter?"

"Of course you do!" Her eyes pricked with tears. "It isn't just about me, and how I feel. It's about how you feel." As soon as she said the words, Alicia realised that her dream of the future was about more than George refusing to let go of grief. It revealed a deeper fear; that George would never fully open his heart again. "I have to go," she said. _Before I do something stupid like cry and beg you to love me and the baby. _

"Fine. Go talk to your mother." George took the box of Floo Powder off the mantel and thrust it at her. "Maybe I'll go see mine."

Why did that sound so threatening? She nodded and tried to Floo before the moisture welling in her eyes spilled down her face. She wasn't successful. A gust of air whooshing down the chimney blew the powder back up.

Alicia could feel tiny particles sticking to her face as she stepped out of the fireplace in her mother's lounge. She lifted a hand to wipe the powder clinging to her eyelashes.

"Good heavens, child, you'll rub powder into your eye! Let me clear it with my handkerchief!" Molly Weasley bustled forward, white fabric clutched in determined fingers.

Shock rooted Alicia in place. While Mrs. Weasley clucked her tongue and dabbed off powder, a line from a Muggle fairytale echoed in Alicia's head. George wouldn't find his mother because she'd gone to the Spinnets' house.

_And she's still __there!_

-

* * *

A/N: **Happy Thanksgiving! **George imagined the wolf threatening to blow the house down unless the pigs handed over Little Red Riding Hood, and now Alicia imagines Molly as Goldilocks. Who wouldn't fracture a fairytale in their shoes? For those amused by my mad word counting skills, the text without A/N was 1453. Notice the upward trend:D, that's something for me to be thankful for on Turkey Day, along with the reviewers of the last chapter...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AutumnSkys, Bardlover, Blue Leah, Bright Green Eyes, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, Drunken Little Monkey, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, Final Fantasy VM, FlameintheFlood, GraceRichie, herb3, hopecraycat, JasperisMYeverything, Kates Master, Lieu Of Flowers, MBP, Meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Morkhan, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, Siriusblack18, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, smartywitch, Snuffles7, sofia666, Strange Apparition, sunny9847, taliapony, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, tiffyrose, Too.Nice.1108, **and **twinsmom.**


	19. Say Anything

After Alicia left, "Fred's" snigger reverberated in George's head.

_Maybe I'll go see mine?_

George winced. He already felt like an idiot for making the childish comeback. There was no need to rub it in.

_Sure, there was, and I was happy to do it. That's what family is for._

The laughing words struck a chord. It might not be a bad idea, talking to his parents—or at least Dad. He could drop by; ask to see whatever Muggle gadget Dad was tinkering with….

George reached for the Floo Powder.

When he walked onto the hearth of The Burrow, he found his father sleeping on the sofa. The outspread Daily Prophet on Arthur's chest rose and fell with each breath, triggering a memory...

_George and Fred stood in the doorway of the lounge. Heads close together, they gazed at the prone figure on the sofa. _

_"Aren't we getting a little old for this?" said George. "We're almost twenty."_

_Fred's lips twitched. "End a long and glorious tradition? Never!"_

"_But he's too easy a target. Every Sunday afternoon, like clockwork, he takes a nap. It doesn't seem—"_

"—_sporting?" said Fred. "All's fair in love and pranks."_

"_The saying is 'Love and war.'"_

_Fred smirked. "I say make mischief, not war."_

_"Too bad You-Know-Who doesn't agree." George glanced down at the book in his brother's hands. "Have we finally run out of embarrassing wizarding mags to switch for the paper?"_

_Fred lifted the paperback. "I couldn't resist. The title was as lurid as the cover."_

_**His Only Desire **__didn't seem that shocking a title to George, but the cover was another story. "Is the wizard supposed to be ripping the witch's dress robes, or stopping her from tearing them off?"_

_"Don't know and don't care—just imagine the look on Mum's face when she comes in and sees that on Dad's chest!"_

George stared down at his father, realising what a good sport Arthur was, and how he and Fred had never fully appreciated it. His face twisted with the effort of holding back emotion.

On the sofa, Arthur opened his eyes. He glanced down at the newspaper. "I keep expecting to find a magazine with 'Seven Sex Secrets' or the like emblazoned across the front." He sat up, placing the paper on a sofa cushion. "I miss those days."

"Yeah, me too." George tried to smile. "Christmas is coming up. If you're nostalgic for Cosmopolitan Witch articles, I can give you a subscription."

"No, no, although some of those quizzes were quite informative." Arthur's gaze twinkled.

George's lips curved upward. "I bet." He nodded toward the kitchen. "Mum in there?"

"No. She's—"

"—can we go out to your workshop, then?" George said in a rush. "I'd like to, erm, talk privately—man to man—if you don't mind."

"Of course not." Arthur led the way through the kitchen. "I've been longing to show someone my latest gadget."

They crossed the back garden toward a ramshackle building. Beyond it, George could see a tree house perched in the bare branches of an enormous oak. He looked away. Fred and he had camped out there on more summer nights than he could count.

His dad's face glowed with enthusiasm. "Did you know Muggles have entire shops dedicated to tools? I happened upon such a centre in Axminster, and was quite impressed. A helpful clerk named Williams explained the uses of some of the more intriguing items." Arthur opened the door to the workshop, waving his hand to engage the illumination orbs. "Since we don't have _electricity," _he said, with an air of pride at his correct pronunciation, "I decided to purchase a petrol trimmer."

George watched his father pat the orange handle of a stick-like contraption. "What's it trim?"

"Grass, shrubbery—edges walkways too."

"Better than spells?"

Arthur lifted the trimmer and waved it about. "I'll let you know as soon as I talk Molly into letting me buy petrol."

"Why do you have to persuade her?"

"Petrol is odorous and flammable—not qualities that appeal to most women."

Words seemed to burst out of George. "Why don't you just tell her 'this is the way it's going to be' and buy the bloody petrol?"

After a final, affectionate pat, his father set the trimmer aside. "How do you think that would set with your mother?" When George shrugged, Arthur said, "Spouses are called partners for a reason. It's a relationship of equals." He smiled a little. "There may be negotiating and compromise, but Molly and I make important decisions together."

"Like buying the trimmer?"

Arthur chuckled. "That was an impulse purchase. Molly understands those." He winked. "Now I wait for the opportune moment to begin negotiations."

George walked over to a shelf and picked up a tiny, copper-coloured cylinder. Dad had always been barmy over batteries. He rolled it between his fingers. "So you had a plan when you took the gadget home? Get Mum used to it being around, to the idea of it, and then negotiate for more?"

"Nothing quite so calculated. I was in Gryffindor House, after all, not Slytherin." Arthur's smile held a trace of naughtiness. "I saw my chance and took it."

"Take a chance." George put the battery down. "Thanks, Dad."

"For showing you the trimmer? Anytime."

It was just like Dad to act as though that was all he had done. "For the advice," said George. "I really needed it."

"I'm always here for you." Arthur reached out to place a hand on his son's arm. "Whenever you want to talk, I'll listen."

George froze. The understanding tone, the look of unconditional fatherly love that waited patiently for an errant son to confess his latest mischief—it was all too clear. "You know about Alicia," he said. "How?" He didn't believe Bill or Fleur would betray his confidence, so that only left...

"Anne Spinnet contacted us this morning when Alicia didn't return home. She was concerned that you two had eloped." Arthur smiled a little. "You can imagine your mother's reaction when Anne told her _why_."

"Every dog in Devon howled along with her shrieks?"

"She wanted to start planning a wedding reception."

George was gobsmacked. "Mum wasn't...upset...about the baby?"

"She was disappointed you hadn't told us the news yourself, as was I," Arthur said quietly. "Did you think we would judge you? That anything means more to us than our child's happiness?"

He had imagined Mum shrieking _Reckless! Thoughtless! Hopeless! _Since it would hurt Dad's feelings to admit it, George said, "I don't know. I've been too busy trying to get my head around the thought of being a father."

Arthur patted George's arm and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "Give it time, son."

"That's what Alicia said—that nothing has to change right away."

The fingers gripping his shoulder tightened. "Does that mean you _didn't _elope?"

George lifted his left hand. "No joining ring." He tensed at the expression on his father's face. "Why is that a problem? Is Mum in the attic dragging out decorations leftover from Bill and Fleur's wedding?"

"No, she's having tea at the Spinnets' to discuss the reception."

In the back of George's mind, Fred's voice parodied his mother's. _Fearless! Doubtless! Relentless! _He immediately headed for the door.

His father jogged across the lawn after him. "Don't go thinking the worst. The ladies could be having a calm, amicable discussion."

"Or the mothers could be ganging up on Alicia, grilling her, making her cry." George almost yanked the back door off its hinges in his haste to reach the lounge. His impatience to open the box of Floo Powder sent the container to the floor. "Shite!"

"I'll clear the mess. You go on."

"Thanks, Dad." George gave his father a brief hug before stepping onto the hearth.

The fireplace he walked out of was smaller and more elegant than the one at The Burrow. On the Oriental rug in the centre of the room, three women faced each other like duellers in a standoff. George strode over to Alicia. "I just learned Mum was here. Are you all right?"

She nodded, but he could see tears shining in her eyes. George wrapped his arms around Alicia. "What did you say to her?" he asked his mother.

Her chin lifted at his harsh tone. "I merely asked a few, pertinent questions."

"Your mum didn't upset me. She was happy at the thought that we were married." Alicia shivered.

George pulled her closer. "If you didn't want us to elope, you got what you wanted, Mrs. Spinnet." His tone lowered. "So why is Alicia about to cry?"

Anne said, "I only want what's best for my daughter and her baby. Decisions will have to be made. Life cannot go on as it was before." Her gaze shifted to Alicia. Anne's face softened. "Everything has changed, darling. Pretending that it hasn't won't alter reality."

"I say let them make their own decisions in their own time," Molly said stoutly.

An image of a wide-eyed Fred came to mind. _Are you sure this is our mother?_

George didn't think anyone else could match the same shade of gingery hair, but he had to be sure. "What did Fred and I start calling you after Dad's Disco Inferno birthday party?"

"Mama Jama."

Alicia said, "What's a ma'am-a jam-a?"

"A fine looking woman." George saw the worried frown creasing Mrs. Spinnet's brow and asked Alicia, "What kind of decisions does your mother want you to make?"

"Normal ones. Choosing a midwitch, a paediatric Healer, deciding where the baby and I will live—"

"—live with me."

Alicia's lips trembled. "You're not ready to get married. You don't deal well with change, remember?"

Feeling like his heart was stuck in his throat, George said, "Help me learn. Move in with me."

"When the baby's born?"

Was the heartbeat pounding in his throat visible? He hoped not. George swallowed hard and said, "Today."

-

Alicia stared up at George, trying to read his expression. Did he really mean it?

"I can't advise you to do that," Anne said. "Living together without marriage doesn't build a relationship. It tests it, without offering any emotional security."

Molly cleared her throat. "They would have security if each is mindful of the other's feelings. It is only when one or both partners put themselves first instead of striving to make each other happy that a relationship fails."

George didn't seem surprised by his mother's statement, but Alicia was. Molly Weasley, a traditional, stay-at-home mum, was encouraging her son's girlfriend to live with him instead of trying to convince them to get married "for the baby"? She shot a glance toward her mother, wondering why she couldn't be as supportive.

Anne seemed to read her look. She said, "In a normal situation, perhaps that's true, but addiction makes people insensitive. They can't consider anyone else's feelings. The addiction comes first, over any partner or child."

Alicia held her breath, waiting for George's reaction to the thinly-veiled accusation.

He kept his eyes on hers. "I got into the habit of drinking, but I'm not an alcoholic," he said bluntly. "I don't get drunk every time I drink, and I'd rather be with you than in a pub." He laid his palm on her stomach. I don't want to hurt you—either of you. I want you to be happy. Does that count for anything?"

Alicia took his hand in hers and lifted it to her lips. "Everything."

Her mother sighed heavily. "Alicia—"

"No, Mum," she said. "I want to be with George. I'm going."

"Very well." Anne sounded tired. "I'll help you pack."

"That's not necessary," said George. "I'll send Caper over. He can rearrange a storeroom faster than I can send a box from one side to the other. Packing will take no time for him."

"If that's what you prefer."

Alicia hated to hurt her mother's feelings, but she didn't want to go over the same issues again. Her mind was made up. She held tightly to George's hand. "It is."

-

* * *

A/N: Must be oldies inspiration week. The chapter title is from the film of the same name, and Vizzini's rant, _And you: friendless, brainless, helpless, hopeless!_ in the Princess Bride inspired what George imagined Molly would say and Fred's parody. :D. To be honest, before the final battle, I think she would've shrieked first and planned later, but war and loss has a way of focusing priorities. There is a tool centre in Axminster. I doubt there's a helpful clerk by the name of Mark Williams who bears a striking resemblance to the actor who plays the role of Arthur Weasley, but it's fun to think so. The novelist Francis Edward Smedley is credited for "All's fair in love and war" which is a paraphrase of Cervantes' (Don Quixote) _Love and War are the same thing, and stratagems and polity are as allowable in the one as in the other. _(hums 'Dulcinea', then segues into 'She's a Bad Mama Jama' by Carl Carlton before ending with Peter Gabriel's 'In Your Eyes') The readers I have to thank for reviewing and giving me a reason to sing 'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas' were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Blue Leah, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, Drunken Little Monkey, ElspethBates, Evo422, Fibinaci, Final Fantasy VM, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, gryffindorhottie, herb3, HPFanFictionFan, Kates Master, kathwyn, Lieu Of Flowers, maraudernumba5, MBP, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Morkhan, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, Ponytail Goddess, potteronpotluvhim, Sabrina Weasley, Silenced Doves, Siriusblack18, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Slipknot-3113, smartywitch, Snuffles7, sofia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, tiffyrose, ****twinsmom, and WEASLEYLOVER.**

_Note to R/T readers:_ I **have **started the chapter, but I won't be able to finish it in time for a Friday post. With all the wizard scout and wolfish fun, I want to do them justice, so I'll post bright and early Monday morning!


	20. Family and Friends

Alicia let go of George's hand to hug her mother. "It'll be all right, Mum."

Soft arms tightened around her. "I'm always here for you."

The embrace was warm and loving, yet Alicia felt chilled. What was that supposed to mean—I'll be waiting for you to run home when things don't work out with George? She bit her tongue to keep from demanding an explanation. Mum wasn't trying to start an argument. She was stating a fact.

Alicia pulled away, her hand falling to her abdomen. Pregnancy gave her a new perspective. She would always be there for her baby. How could she expect less of her mother? "Love you, Mum," she said. "I'll see you at the shop in the morning."

She turned to find George at her side. "Why were you holding your stomach?" he said. "Is it the baby? Are you having cramps?"

"No, I'm fine." She looked down at his fingers, currently splayed across her middle. "You're doing it again."

"What? The touching?" a tiny smile curved George's mouth. He rubbed his hand back and forth. "Get used to it."

"He takes after his father," said Molly. "I'll never forget that day in McGregor's Market when the twins kicked something fierce. One gasp from me, and the next thing I knew Arthur was yanking up my maternity top and yelling, 'Is it TIME?'" She shook her head, looking more amused than exasperated. "As though laying hands on my belly could _possibly _be of any help."

"Maybe it helped him," said George.

Alicia heard the defensive edge to his tone and smiled. She wasn't the only one who was sensitive about motherly comments! Wanting to reassure him, she said, "If it helps you, touch me anywhere and anytime you like." Immediately, her face burned with embarrassment. That did not come out the way she'd intended!

George was now grinning like a fiend.

Her mother frowned, but thankfully, Mrs. Weasley didn't have a dirty mind. "Well, all I can say is to wear separates," she said, "and get used to strangers queuing up to rub your belly for luck!"

"Stellar advice, Mum," said George, with a suspiciously straight face. "Thanks for everything. You, too, Mrs. Spinnet. We'd best be off."

Alicia found herself ushered out of the flat in record time. When George took her hand and began to walk toward Diagon Alley, she said, "Why didn't we use the Floo?"

"I'm taking you out to dinner," he said. "You're eating for two, so you need regular meals."

She found his desire to take care of her sweet, but... "How will Caper know to pack my things?"

George stopped in his tracks and looked back down the narrow, brick alley. "I forgot about that. Hmm...I've seen house-elves summoned over distances. It's worth a try." He called out, "Caper, if you're not too busy and don't mind—"

"Yes, Mister?" Caper had materialised behind Alicia and George.

They whirled around.

Alicia said, "Hi, Caper. You have amazing hearing."

"Is part of elf magic to hear when I is summoned." Although the words were matter-of-fact, Caper's ears had turned red at the tips.

George said, "Handy, too, I bet; except when you were a kid and wanted to pretend not to hear your mum call you in for dinner."

"Caper was always having to go in at dark." The elf sniffed, and then said more cheerfully, "You is wishing assistance?"

"Yes." George gestured to the upstairs window. "Alicia is moving in with me, so I'd like you to pack her things and send them to number ninety-three, if it's not too much trouble."

Caper looked delighted. "Furniture as well?" he said hopefully.

"No," said George, at the same time Alicia said 'yes'.

He looked at her questioningly.

"Your wardrobe isn't big enough," she said. "We need mine too. There's enough space."

"But your wardrobe has flowers and butterflies painted on it."

George said "butterflies" in the same tone Alicia would've used to say slugs. She tried not to take it personally. "I painted those when I was eight. You said they were pretty."

"They are—in a little girl's room."

Alicia didn't like to argue, but he was forgetting something. "We could be having a girl!"

"And if we do, she can have it, but it won't be moved from Mummy and Daddy's room!"

_Mummy and Daddy's room..._

The words melted Alicia's irritation. If Caper wasn't watching them, she would've melted all over George and kissed him breathless. Whether it was pregnancy hormones or hopeless romanticism, the thought of sharing a room as "mummy and daddy" made her feel all gooey inside. "Okay," she said. "I'll find a way to squish my clothes in with yours." At that moment, she didn't care if everything they owned wrinkled. She swayed toward George. His lips parted.

Caper said, "I will make the wardrobe bigger if you like."

"I like!" said George. After the elf Disapparated, he said, "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You were distracted?"

He pulled her close. "Yes, I was. How rude of him. Where were we?"

Alicia loved it when George was playful. She threaded her arms around his neck. "About to go have dinner."

"After a snog."

She reached up to lightly brush her lips against his.

George's eyes were merry, even as he curled his lip. "That wasn't a kiss, much less a snog." He bent to kiss her in ways that did more than liquefy her insides. The passion and tenderness captured her heart. She sighed against his lips, wanting to stay in his arms forever.

Her stomach disagreed with a loud rumble.

George chuckled as they parted. "Someone's hungry."

"The food at lunch was lovely, but it wasn't very filling," she said, blushing when her stomach gurgled again.

"Style over substance, that's the rich for you." George's arm circled her waist. "With me, you get both."

His voice was laughing, beguiling. "Lucky me," said Alicia. She meant it wholeheartedly.

It must have showed, because a shadow crossed George's face. "I'm glad you feel that way."

Oh, Merlin, she wasn't going to let him go broody. Not on their first night living together. "You're lucky too," she said, "Because I'm in the mood for Italian."

The smile returned to George's eyes. "My favourite."

"Along with Chinese, Indian, and good old English pub grub," she said teasingly.

They made their way to _La Trattoria, _one of several new restaurants that had opened after the war. Small and cheerful, the _trattoria's_ yellow-stuccoed walls were set off by a bright green ceiling. Pottery and fresh flowers added hominess to the decor. Seated near a family of five, Alicia noticed the youngest boy's intent stare and smiled. The curly-haired toddler beamed—and then tried to cram fistfuls of pasta into his mouth.

While the older brothers sniggered and the parents wiped the baby's face and hands, George said, "How come you didn't laugh when I acted like that first year?"

If he was trying to sound hurt, his twitching lips ruined the effect. "You were eleven, not one, and your no-cutlery eating contest with Fred was gross."

"_Gross?_ You weren't impressed with my victory? Not even a little?"

Alicia accepted the piece of thickly-sliced Italian bread he offered. "Maybe a little." She tore a bite off with her fingers. "Your lips were shiny with olive oil. I remember that."

George smirked. "Because you wanted to kiss me?"

She dipped the hot bread into a plate of olive oil topped with crushed black pepper. "If I did, I was too shy to act on it." Alicia fed George the bread.

"You're smiling," he said. "Does that mean I have olive oil on my lips?"

"Yes." Alicia leaned across the tiny table.

George met her halfway.

The kiss they shared was incredibly sweet.

-

The next morning, George walked Alicia downstairs and kissed her goodbye in a way that inspired humming.

Zoe greeted her with a smile when she entered The Light Fantastic. "You must really love that song to hum it so much. I s'ppose you listen to Celestina's Orpheus Orbs all the time."

_You Cast a Spell on Me _was the one Celestina Warbeck song that didn't make Alicia want to hurl the radio across the room when it played. "I don't have any Celestina orbs," she said, thinking, _Thank the stars! _

"Did you know she has a Greatest Hits orb that's coming out in December?"

"No."

Zoe's dark eyes twinkled. "Perhaps someone will buy it for you as a present."

Alicia could guess who that someone would be. She did her best to smile. "That would be...great."

Zoe looked past her shoulder. "Morning, Anne!"

"Good morning, Zoe. Good morning, dear. Are you all settled in?"

Alicia said, "Yes, thanks."

"Settled in where?" Zoe turned her wide-eyed gaze to Alicia. "Where did you move to?"

"Number ninety-three."

"Diagon Alley?"

"Yes."

Zoe's mouth opened and closed, as if she had decided at the last second not to ask a nosy question. "Oh. That's nice," she chirped, before saying, "I'll go rearrange some orbs in the back."

Left alone with her mother, Alicia said, "I think Zoe's giving us privacy to have a _domestic dialogue_."

"Otherwise known as a row?" Anne's shoulder lifted and fell. "I've already stated my reservations about your decision. I won't do it again." After a few moments of silence, she said, "I noticed that you didn't take your wardrobe."

Alicia seized on the opportunity to turn the conversation in a more positive direction, telling her mother all about Caper's transfiguration of George's old wardrobe into a fitted unit with ample space for both their clothes.

Right before lunch, Alicia took advantage of a lull in customers to pop over to Flourish and Blott's.

Vicky was manning the customer service counter. She glanced up from the paper she was reading. "YOU!" she said in a dire tone that had customers turning their heads. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

The bottom dropped out of Alicia's stomach. Had Mum forgotten to tell her that Vicky came by the flat last night? "I was just about to tell you over lunch." She smiled weakly. "My treat."

Her friend's eyes were narrowed into slits. "As though food could ever compensate for my pain and suffering." She held up the paper and shook it. "You had box tickets to the Harpies' match and didn't take me—their biggest fan!" Vicky made a growling sound in her throat. "Instead you brought your boyfriend and wasted the whole time snogging!"

Alicia stared at the picture above the caption **Passionate Harpies Fans Celebrate Victory!** It was her and George. "We didn't snog the _whole _time," she said numbly. Reality was beginning to dawn on her. Everyone they knew, family and friends, would eventually see the photograph.

_At least when they find out __about the baby it won't be quite as much a surprise, _she thought.

"Why are you looking like you've had a shock? Didn't you come here to tell me about the picture?" asked Vicky.

Alicia released a deep breath. "No. I came here to tell you I've moved in with George—and I'm pregnant."

-

George didn't get around to reading the _Prophet _until lunch. While Caper ran the shop, he ate a sandwich and relaxed at his desk, leafing through the paper. When he saw the photograph in the Sports section, his first thought wasn't about the reaction of friends and family to the evidence of his relationship with Alicia: he was upset about the clearly visible logo on the tee he was wearing.

He stormed down the employee corridor and into the shop. "Look at this!"

"Miss Alicia and Mister George is very photogenic," said Caper.

"Are we?" George took another, closer look at the photograph before shaking his head and slamming the paper down on the counter. "I meant the shirt I'm wearing. It's a Harpies tee and I'm a Cannons fan!" He groaned a foul word. "I'll never be able to show my face in the Bat and Bludger again!"

"The Gnome and Jarvey is very nice."

George snorted. "Right. Full of clerks complaining about evil shop owners." He gave his employee a suspicious look. "Been there, have you?"

"They has two for one specials on Butterbeer every Friday," Caper said in a low voice that rose when he exclaimed, "I is only saying Mister George is the best Mister ever!"

Caper slurring his words, the clerks around him laughing their arses off: it was painfully easy to imagine. "Thank you," said George, retreating to his office before the elf could confess any other public declarations.

By the end of the day, he lost track of the number of customers who said they'd seen him in the paper. He didn't lose count of the owls from his family. Everyone except Percy and Charlie sent him a letter. Mum and Dad invited him and Alicia over to the Burrow for dinner. Fleur and Bill invited them to Shell Cottage to play cards. Ginny said he showed "good taste" and was proud of him for supporting "her future team." Ron advised him to tell his mates that he wore the tee because he lost a bet. Then he hit George up for a job.

**I want to buy Hermione a necklace for Christmas—****something really nice. I have enough pocket money saved up, but if you let me work at the shop over holiday, I could afford to take her out on dates.**

George rolled his eyes over the brotherly emotional blackmail and penned a response.

**I'll give you a job, but ****you're at the bottom of the managerial ladder. Caper gives YOU ****orders, not the other way round.**

He was pressing his seal into scarlet-coloured wax when Alicia walked into the office. George came around the desk to kiss her. "Hullo," he said, lifting the letter. "I'm giving Ronnikins a job over the school holiday."

"That's nice." She sounded distracted.

George followed her gaze to the newspaper on his desk. "Have you been getting owls about that too?"

Her creamy skin became tinted with pink. "Yes, but that's not what I want to talk about." Alicia bit her lip. "I told Vicky we're having a baby."

"Okay," he said slowly, unsure of how she expected him to react. Did she think he'd be upset? George wasn't. He had expected Alicia to tell her the news. When she continued to watch him so apprehensively, he had to ask, "She isn't threatening to have her muscle-bound boyfriend come after me with a bat and Bludger, is she?"

"No. She wants you to come along with us this Friday to the Gnome and Jarvey."

-

* * *

A/N: Chapters usually post much earlier than this. My apologies to anyone who's been waiting. (I'd cry if no one missed me!) I meant to have Molly drop by the shop this chapter, but George really needs to make the effort to get along with Alicia's friends before November slides by into December and his mother drops in to ask a few uncomfortable questions! The people I have to thank for "dropping in" to review last chapter were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, btyrhtout, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, Drunken Little Monkey, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, Final Fantasy VM, FlameintheFlood, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, herb3, HPFanFictionFan, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Legallyblonde79, Lieu Of Flowers, MBP, Meeh-san, Me-Ip, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Morkhan, Mrs. Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, Rana Mya, sinful delight, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, smartywitch, Snuffles7, sofia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, StarsInTheSky123, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, TessieIII, tiffyrose, Too.Nice.1108, and WEASLEYLOVER.**


	21. Friends and Family

George's first impulse had been to say no. By the time he closed shop on Friday, he regretted that Alicia's pleading brown eyes swayed him into agreeing to meet her at the Gnome and Jarvey.

_What's the matter, brother? Worried you'll see Caper there?_

The mental image of Caper dancing on the bar or standing on it to toast the 'best Mister ever' threatened to turn George's dull headache into a severe one. His gaze flew to the elf straightening products on display. "What are your plans for tonight, Caper?"

"Plans?"

Caper's tone was evasive. Not a good sign. "Yes, _plans," _said George. "As in where are you going after you leave here?" A chill skittered down his spine when round green eyes stared at him dolefully.

"Caper is going to the pub."

Pain stabbed at George's temples. He winced.

_If you're that afraid to be laughed at, order him not to go._

George stiffened. He didn't order, he made requests, and he wasn't afraid of anything! To prove it, he said, "Great! If I see you there, I'll buy a round of Butterbeer."

Caper's face lit up—and then fell. "I is only going to the Sleazy Kneazle to clean."

The tension gripping George abruptly eased. "The Sleazy Kneazle? I thought you meant the Gnome and Jarvey!"

The elf's shoulders slumped. "No. Caper is working so his friend Oley will not lose his room."

George remembered a white-haired elf leading him into a dreary, cramped space. "Is he sick?"

"Old."

George felt the sting of guilt for only considering himself. He said, "Isn't there an old elf home he could go to?"

"House-elves is expected to have homes with wizards."

"Oh." Speaking quickly to keep from changing his mind, George asked, "Do you have time for a drink before your shift at the Kneazle?"

"A drink—with you—at the Jarvey?"

_He looks like__ Christmas came and it's only November. You're his hero, Georgie._

Uncomfortable with the thought, George said, "Yeah."

"I has time!"

"I'll get my cloak." George used a quick _Accio._

Caper snapped his fingers. An instant later, a scarlet and gold scarf was wound around the elf's throat.

_Show off. _

George nodded his approval. He liked that in an employee.

Disliked were the looks he and Caper received as they walked toward the Gnome and Jarvey. "What do they expect, you to walk three paces behind? Rude gits," George muttered.

"Maybe they is admiring my scarf."

The two were still sniggering when they walked into the Jarvey.

"Weasley! Over here!" Kenneth Towler's booming voice carried from the rear of the pub. A large group was gathered around the back tables. Most wore casual gear instead of work robes.

George should have expected clerks to skive off as early as possible. Alicia, having a proper work ethic, wasn't there yet. He glanced down. "Let's go order our drinks. Put off the inevitable."

"You is wishing Caper to meet your friends?"

Caper sounded astonished. George's guilty conscience sharpened his tone. "Alicia's friends. Yes. So don't try to beg off."

"I isn't."

The bartender grinned while serving ale and Butterbeer. "You must be the Mister we've heard so much about," he said with a grin. Nice to meet you, Mister."

"Hullo, Wally!" George replied. He handed Caper the Butterbeer.

The man pointed to his nametag. "My name is Wadley."

"Mine's George."

Comprehension dawned. The bartender smile was an apology. "Nice meeting you, George."

On the way to the tables, Caper said, "If I is choosing, I am liking the name Wally over Wadley."

"Not if you were human," said George. "A Wally is the kind of bloke who tucks his tie into his trousers."

Caper shrugged. "House-elves has no trousers."

Vicky Frobisher waved them over to a couple of empty seats. "Hullo, George! We're so glad you came and brought a…friend."

"Caper," said George, in response to her enquiring tone. He smiled politely while Vicky introduced "the gang". Several faces were vaguely familiar from school days. One lad, Joey, claimed to have earned two Galleons for testing Puking Pastilles.

"I spent a night in the Hospital Wing!" he said cheerfully.

_Tried to hit us up for an extra Galleon, too, cheeky beggar._

It was hard to keep track of all their past dealings, but George recalled Joey being a good sport when Fred reminded him all work was undertaken at the applicant's own risk. He took out a Galleon and flipped it.

Joey caught the coin, smiling widely.

Next to Joey, Kenneth said, "Do I get a Galleon for the pain and suffering you inflicted on me with Bulbadox powder?"

George shook his head. "Sorry about the boils, mate, but that was a prank and I wasn't the culprit." His brother had been the one to sprinkle the powder in Kenneth's pyjamas. Fred was beyond being held accountable.

An awkward silence fell.

Vicky said brightly, "I could never tell you twins apart."

"You and our mum," said George, trying to help lighten the mood.

It worked. People chuckled. Conversations resumed. George pretended interest in customer service stories, all the while watching the door for Alicia.

He surged to his feet the moment he saw her. "Something's wrong," he told Caper. "She's walking too slowly."

The elf had sharper eyes than George. "There is a bruise on Miss Alicia's cheek." Caper held out his hand, palm up. A jar of bruise-remover paste appeared. He set it on the table.

"Thank you," said George.

"You is most welcome and I must be going." Caper gave a small bow to the group and Apparated.

George couldn't wait for Alicia to reach the table. He went to her. The closer he got, the more evident it was that she was in pain. Her smile was forced. "What happened?" he said.

"I'm so stupid. I tripped in the storeroom and literally ran into a brick wall."

"It isn't stupid to have an accident, and you're not walking one more step on that foot." George lifted Alicia into his arms and carried her through the crowd.

Vicky was the one of the few not clapping and whistling over what appeared to be a romantic gesture. "Alicia! Are you all right?"

George set Alicia down in a chair and knelt beside her. While Alicia told her friend what happened, he used a fingertip to spread paste over the bruise on her cheek. In seconds, it had disappeared.

"That worked fast!" exclaimed one of the girls.

"New and improved for the same low price," George said distractedly. He put his hand on Alicia's knee and then slid it beneath her skirt.

_"George!"_

His eyes flickered over blushing cheeks before returning to the task at hand. "I'm taking off your stocking so I can see your foot."

"How did you know I was wearing thigh-high stockings?" she said. "You were still asleep when I got dressed."

"No, I wasn't. I was watching." He took off her shoe and tugged the silk down to reveal dark purple blotches on the top of her foot. "Caught your foot on a crate, did you? I'll send Caper to reorganise your storeroom first thing tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that. I tripped because I hurrying instead of paying attention to where I was walking—and how could you watch me?"

George used two fingers to spread the bruise-remover paste. "The mirrored door on the wardrobe—and Caper will ensure this doesn't happen again."

"Is he going to transfigure the mirror back to wood?"

"Ha-ha," said George. He kept rubbing her skin until it became pale and creamy. "Flex your foot," he said. "How does that feel?"

"Good."

Her breathy tone brought out the imp in George. He took his time smoothing the stocking back up her leg, running a finger across the top of her thigh.

Alicia gasped. "My shoe!" she said when heads turned. "I need to visit the toilet, so I need my shoe."

George handed it over with a wink.

In the way of women, Vicky and two other girls rose to accompany Alicia. After the girls left the table, the server checked to see if anyone wanted another round. She said to George, "You were down on one knee so long, folks at the bar started taking bets on whether you were getting up the nerve to propose or getting on with her."

_Bit of both, _said the cheeky voice in the back of his mind.

"She had a hurt foot," said Kenneth.

George just smiled.

-

As the weeks passed, George found smiles harder to come by. It wasn't Alicia. Asking her to move in was the best idea he'd ever had. She was always supportive, even when he worked late. She understood that in his business, new inventions brought in customers who then included old favourites in their purchases. Without the lure of the new and exciting, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes would become another Zonko's—relying on past innovations and losing customers to the competition.

Without Fred, it took George longer to transfigure his ideas into viable products. He didn't have his brother to use as a sounding board, tossing ideas for spells back and forth until they hit upon a winning combination. Instead, he worked alone, with only his thoughts and memories to guide him. Sometimes, he struggled.

When he struggled, George was tempted to drink.

If Alicia suspected that he carried her to bed early some nights for reasons beside the obvious, she didn't let on. She wrapped her arms around him and eased his frustrations in a way Firewhisky never could.

Caper offered to help, the way he had on the Queen for a Day Charm. George regretfully declined. The newest products were designed to snag a Ministry contract, and reforms sweeping other departments had yet to reach Procurement Services. Until they were changed, regulations prohibited the purchase of goods with "non-wizards" on the patent.

On the first Sunday in December, while Caper and Alicia decorated the shop, George divided his time between sorting through paperwork and trying to come up with an advertising slogan for the new products he'd created. It wasn't enough to have them on offer—they had to sell.

He was smirking over a letter from the Diagon Alley business association urging shopkeepers to keep their displays "tasteful"; warning customers might be put off by "garish visual assaults", when the office door creaked open.

George looked up to see his mother kick the door closed. Her arms were filled with packages. "All those for me?" he said.

Molly dumped the brightly wrapped gifts onto the seat of a chair. "For the children."

He arched a brow. "Bit early, isn't it?"

She gave him an impatient look. "Not the _babies_, the children, who will be returning to London before we know it." Her gaze softened. "I did see the most adorable bib. It had two embroidered faces with Father Christmas hats and 'Merry Twinsmas'. It reminded me of the bibs Auntie Muriel sent your first Christmas." Molly said, "You're _quite _sure Alicia's having only the one?"

"Quite sure." Hearing a single heartbeat during the Midwitch exam had been a relief to George. That wasn't something he cared to discuss, so he rose to his feet. "If you're talking about Ron and Ginny, they're teenagers, Mum. Of age. Not children—even if all Ronnikins wants is Quiddich supplies."

"Ronald wrote that you're giving him a position at the shop."

There was an inflection in his mother's voice that made George wary. "That's right."

Her eyes became slits. "You won't be doing any testing on him, will you?"

"Only if he signs a waiver."

On cue, her feathers ruffled. She threatened vague, dire consequences in a manner Irma Pince would envy. The rising sound was sweeter than Christmas bells to George. It had been a long time since she'd given him such a blistering scold. He came around the desk to hug her.

"Don't try to get round me," Molly said gruffly, almost squeezing the life out of him. She pinched his good ear warningly. "You be good to your brother."

"Yes, Mum."

"You be good to Alicia, too."

"Yes, Mum." He pulled away, feeling wary again. His mother was up to something.

She came right out with it. "Does that mean you plan to ask her to marry you soon? If you don't have time to shop for a ring, I've held onto Granny Prewett's—"

"Not the carbuncle!" said George. He remembered Ginny prancing around the house as "Princess Puffskein" wearing the ornate, ugly ring.

"It's a cabochon-cut ruby set with diamonds," Molly said stiffly. "A family treasure."

"Let someone else treasure it," said George, "Like Percy."

"Never mind the ring," Molly said. "Are you going to propose or not?"

"Why the sudden interest?"

Her eyes slanted to the left—toward the presents.

"Merlin," said George. "You haven't told them about me and Alicia?"

"I thought you'd propose before the holidays! Explaining that you two are married and expecting a baby would be much easier than shacked up and preggers!"

"Why? You seem to have no problem shouting it!"

Molly glanced back over her shoulder. "Oh, stars. Does the office have privacy wards?"

"Yes." George tried not to think of the things he and Alicia had done on the desk. Mum wasn't a Legilimens, but still. He said, "If you don't want to tell them, I'll do it. I can owl or make an announcement at the dinner table—"

"An announcement? During Christmas Dinner?" Molly's voice was faint. Her eyes glazed over as though she were imagining the scene in her mind. "I spell-dyed my hair yesterday, yet I can _feel _the grey hairs popping through." She exhaled heavily. "I'll tell Ginny; you owl Ron, but—be kind."

George walked over to the desk, picked up a Quick-Quotes Quill, and sucked briefly on its tip. The scarlet feather seemed to quiver with eagerness when he set it on a piece of paper. "Dear Ron," he said. "Before you start working at the shop, I think you should know Alicia and I are living together and expecting a baby this summer. If you keep your gob shut, I'll pay you well. If you question why we aren't married, and why Mum isn't sending daily Howlers, I'll sack you." He picked the note up and handed it to his mother. "How's that?"

Molly said, "Write 'Love, George' and it will do."

-

Alicia wished George was helping decorate the shop Christmas tree; and not just because she was tired of hearing botty burp noises from the Whoopee Ornaments. She wanted to spend more time with him.

After Mrs. Weasley's visit, she got her wish. George left his office. "I need help with a slogan for our two new products," he said, putting down a box and picking up a basket of miniature disco balls. Once hung on the tree, the balls revolved, sending out incandescent sparkles of light.

Alicia exchanged hopeful glances with Caper. For weeks, they had offered to help in any way needed. She smiled at George. "Hagrid always said three heads are better than one."

"He also called his Cerberus dog 'Fluffy'."

"Oh, you." Alicia plucked a Candy Crank Cane off the tree and held it threateningly.

George chuckled. "Okay. I believe him." He bent to open the box, lifting out a black beret. "The Boomerang Beret is the next level in personal protection. Jinxes don't just bounce off the wearer. They backfire against the one who cast the spell!" He handed Caper a hat. "I call this the Boomerang Bowler."

"For the traditional wizard?" said the elf.

Alicia giggled. "Or the unconventional witch."

"Yes! That's it! I had the beret covered, but I couldn't figure out how to sell the bowler!" George ran back to the office, returning with a letter he placed into box along with the hats. "I say we deliver this promotional, erm, _gift_ to our friend the Minister and then celebrate with Chinese food."

"That's the help you needed?" Alicia turned to Caper, Candy Crank Cane in hand. "Should I chuck this at him?"

Caper's eyes gleamed with mischief.

Alicia threw the black and white sweet. It hovered over George's head, "beating" at him with tiny taps. He cried, "Ouch!" and grabbed the "cane", snapping it in two.

Alicia took the half he offered, waiting for George to suck on his before doing the same to hers. "Tastes like peppermint," she said, surprised.

"What did you expect, liquorice?" George mumbled around the mouthful of candy cane he was chewing. "That gag would be too obvious. I prefer subtlety."

Alicia pulled the end of the candy cane out of her mouth. "Define subtle."

George grinned. His teeth were black.

"Oh my gods!" Alicia turned to Caper. "Are my teeth like his?" She jumped when hands gripped her shoulders. George pulled her flush against him, kissing her until her knees were weak and her smile was giddy.

"They is now," said Caper.

George hefted the box. "Don't worry. The stain will fade in a couple of hours." Even with blackened teeth, his smile dazzled. "You look beautiful to me," he said. "Isn't that what matters?"

Yes, it was. She headed for the door.

-

On the afternoon the Hogwarts Express was due to pull into King's Cross, Alicia headed for the toilet. "I thought morning sickness was supposed to happen in the mornings," she said, returning to the lounge. She'd washed her face and chewed a couple of brushing/flossing mints, but her stomach still felt queasy.

George handed her a cup of peppermint tea. "Maybe the baby's nervous about meeting his uncle Ron." He shook his head in mock regret. "I should've never told that story about how he almost dropped Ginny."

"The baby's fine. It's me who's nervous." Alicia sipped the tea. The cup rattled against the saucer. She set it down. "Maybe I shouldn't go."

"You're going. I need the moral support."

Alicia hadn't considered that George might be nervous too. She reached for his hand. "All right. I'll go."

At the station, George's fingers tightened around her hand when they heard a familiar train whistle. Around them, Percy and Penelope, Fleur and Bill, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Mr. and Mrs. Granger all craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the ones they had come to meet.

Alicia kept her eyes on George. She knew the moment he saw his brother and sister disembark. His face lit up. "Ginny's prettier than ever," he said. "And Ron's still growing."

She heard the trace of envy in his voice and said, "He probably gets cricks in his neck from snogging."

George chuckled, drawing her forward to greet their friends and family.

-

* * *

- 

A/N: The holidays are finally here! Ron fans rejoice! LOL. I used OP quotes in the scene with Joey, who may or may not have a flatmate named Chandler. :D Thanks to **ElspethBates** for putting the idea into my head with her review, while **AliciaSpinnet93's** review made me imagine family reactions to an announcement by George, giggle hysterically, and find a way to impart the info that wouldn't have Caper sighing "There goes Christmas." Proving that reading and watching films are worthy pastimes, the Candy Crank Cane idea was sparked from a scene in The Patriot where ink in tea turns a courting couple's teeth black, and Princess Puffskein was inspired by a line from a fave Grimm's Fairy Tale where the cook says of The Princess in Disguise_Faith __rough-skin__, thou art a witch_. I almost had Ginny call herself Princess of Quite A Lot, after **Mary Engelbreit's, **(anyone who hasn't seen it should Google—the girl could be a Ginny) but Puffskein won out, being cuter and fluffier.

The readers I have to thank for reviewing the last chapter (which they might have thought cuter and fluffier, heh) are...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, btyrhtout, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, dancegirl01mom, Drunken Little Monkey, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, Final Fantasy VM, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, herb3, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Kates Master, ladyofthecelticland, Layla, Lieu Of Flowers, maggiequeen, MBP, Meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Mrs. Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, potteronpotluvhim, Rana Mya, smartywitch, Snuffles7, sofia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, Sunshine Spray, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, tiffyrose, Twinsmom, and WEASLEYLOVER.**


	22. Home for the Holidays

Alicia gained a new appreciation for Mrs. Weasley's warm, motherly nature as Molly bustled forward, calling, _"Ginny! Ron! Harry! Let me look at you! Oh, we've missed you!" _

The rest of the family vied to get in greetings between Molly's effusive hugs and remarks on Ginny's hair, Ronald needing feeding up, and Harry, so quiet; was his throat hurting? Did he need a potion? It was a relief to Alicia to blend into the group. She and George weren't standing apart, waiting nervously, hoping no one would ask uncomfortable questions.

Fleur had chosen to stand in the back with them. She leaned over to say, "Ze big families, zey are like _bouillabaisse,_ wiz many kinds of seafood added to ze stew."

George overheard. He grinned. "Are you saying there's something fishy about this family?"

Fleur giggled. "Oui, and you are ze eel—vairy slippery."

George rounded on Alicia. "You told her about the Merry Massage Oil!"

"No, I didn't!"

"_Non! _" cried Fleur. Her eyes sparkled with interest. "But I would like to know about it, _s'il te plait—_if it pleases you, dear brother_."_

George shot a glance at the others. "I'd planned to put it on the market this Christmas," he said in a confidential tone, "but I haven't worked out all the kinks."

"Ze kinks—like in kinky?"

Alicia felt a blush scald her cheeks at the memory of how she and George had conducted a series of "trials" on the product. "No!" she said hastily. "It was supposed to make you laugh, because it's a gag. The more oil you use, the slipperier your partner gets, you see, until you can't hold onto them anymore."

"Like ze Greased Pig Charm!" Fleur said. "What is ze kink?"

Alicia's eyes flew to George.

He smiled wickedly. "You tell her."

Alicia hoped her face wasn't as red as it felt. "Well, the...mood enhancer...spell is a bit off. Instead of finding the experience fun and sexy, eventually a couple becomes—"

"Frustrated?" said Fleur, laughing merrily. "Zat is kinky!"

_"What's kinky?"_

Alicia froze. Ginny had asked the question, but the whole family seemed to be waiting for an answer.

George spun around to hug his sister. "Ginny! Good to see you! Are you wanting a position at the shop?"

"I hadn't considered it." Ginny said hello to Alicia and Fleur before asking George, "Would you hire me?"

_"No!" _The outburst came from George's younger brother. Ron scowled at Ginny. "I'm older, I get to work for George. You stay home."

"That's not fair!"

George cut in. "No, it isn't. It's practical. I'm full up on employees, but Mrs. Spinnet needs another clerk to help with the Christmas and Solstice rush—doesn't she, Alicia?" His smirk conveyed, _Aren't I clever, distracting the family, _and _I told you I was listening while undoing your buttons last night._

Alicia gave him a look that replied, _You are, you did, now shut up!_ While George clapped Ron and Harry on the shoulder and asked about the train ride, Alicia told Ginny, "Yes, she does, so be warned; if you come by the Light Fantastic tomorrow we'll put you to work. Saturdays are our busiest days."

Ginny hugged her. "Thank you! I'm so glad you're part of the family now!"She pulled away, a pink flush making freckles stand out. "I meant—I'm really happy about the baby."

"What baby?"

Percy's question halted all conversation. Alicia said, "Didn't George tell you?"

George was staring at his mother. "I thought you told him!"

Molly bristled at the accusing tone. "You told Bill and Ron. I naturally assumed—"

"Wrong!" said George.

"So it's a mother's lot to do everything? Is that it?"

Arthur stepped between his wife and son. "Congratulations are in order," he said calmly. "Alicia and George are expecting a baby."

Penelope smiled. "That's lovely news!" She laid her hand on Percy's arm. "Isn't it?"

Percy nodded stiffly. "Yes. Of course. Congratulations." He looked at George. "I'll owl Charlie, if you like."

"Suit yourself." George turned toward Molly. "Dinner at eight?"

Alicia glanced at her watch. It was half past five.

"Come at seven," Molly said tightly. "There are potatoes needing peeling."

Alicia saw Ron and Harry exchanging amused glances.

So did George. "You two are helping me," he said, taking Alicia's hand. He tugged her across the platform.

She waved her goodbyes. "Why aren't we going to The Burrow with the others? Do you have work to do at the shop?"

"I need a break from family togetherness."

The words created an image in Alicia's mind.

_She__ was sitting on the rug in the lounge, holding out her hands to a red-haired tot standing next to the sofa. "Come to Mummy!" she said._

_Tiny fingers released their grip on a cushion. With a grin that displayed __four pearly teeth, the baby took a wobbly step away from the sofa. _

_"Take a picture!" Alicia cried excitedly, before remembering that George had gone down to the pub to meet Lee. He needed a break from family togetherness._

"I think I'll go run a bath," she said the moment they arrived back at Diagon Alley. Alicia avoided George's eyes and hurried upstairs.

She spun an Orpheus Orb of Christmas Carols, but not even Stubby Boardman's God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs or the sugarplum scented bubbles cheered her up. She kept brooding about George.

Alicia almost jumped out of the tub when he entered the room. Water sloshed onto the floor. "Merlin! You startled me!"

"I'm not Merlin. I'm much better looking," said George, drying the tiles with a spell.

"Have you closed shop?" she asked, sinking lower beneath the bubbles.

George sat on the edge of the claw foot tub. "No. Caper's got things under control, so I decided to make sure you didn't run the bathwater too hot."

"It's fine," she said. "Feel for yourself."

George took off his shoes.

"What are you doing?"

His socks and jumper were placed on the shoes. "Accepting your invitation."

He continued to strip.

"I expected you to put your hand in the water."

George took off his watch and added it to the bundle on the floor. The only thing he wore was a smile. "My parents taught me to exceed expectations."

Alicia hugged her knees to her chest to make room in the tub.

He settled into the water, reaching for the soap and her foot. "What's wrong?" he said, rubbing his thumbs along her arch. "Did you want to go with the others?"

She bit her lip.

George continued to massage her foot with soapy fingers. "Was it the family togetherness crack? I didn't mean it." He made a face. "No. I meant it. Just—not in a bad way. Family is important." He leaned toward her, face taut with earnestness. "It's the most important thing in my life."

Alicia imagined herself holding a camera while George sat on a rug, coaxing a toddler into taking first steps. She slid her foot out of his grasp in order to launch herself into his arms.

His chest shook with laughter when she kissed him passionately. "I have to admit, this is exceeding my expectations."

She teased his bottom lip with her tongue and reached for the soap. "I won't be satisfied with anything less than outstanding."

-

Outstanding lovemaking left George in the mood for a long winter's nap. He made do with a short one. Alicia shook his shoulder after he'd barely closed his eyes. "It's seven o'clock! You have to get ready!"

He admired her red jumper and lifted an eyebrow over the black skirt. "Bit short, isn't it?"

"I'm wearing matching tights."

George tilted his head, pretending he could look up her skirt. "And red knickers."

Alicia gasped. "There's no way you could see my panties!"

He waggled his eyebrows. "I will later."

She picked up his comb off the chest and tossed it at him. "Much later. You've got a date with a potato peeler, Mr. Weasley."

Although George got dressed quickly, they didn't step out of the fireplace at The Burrow until twenty past seven. He left Alicia chatting with the girls in the lounge and went to the kitchen only to find his potato peeler had run off with another bloke. "Jilted for a Curse Breaker," he said when Bill tried to hand over the fickle implement. "I won't take her back now." He strolled over to the coolant cabinet and snagged a Butterbeer. "She made her decision and now she'll have to live with it." He sat across from a mound of potato peels and the three watching him with varying expressions of amusement. "I'll supervise," he said, taking a long drink.

"You do know you're talking about an inanimate object, not a person?" said Ron. He yelped when he accidentally peeled a slice of skin.

"Yes. It's called personification," said George, "and since nobody wants bits of you in the mashed potatoes, I advise you not to snigger at it."

Ron looked at Harry, snorted with laughter, and then cursed when he sliced himself again. "I've been jinxed!"

"It's the power of suggestion," said Bill.

Ron threw George a sulky look. "I'm bleeding."

"Too bad Hermione isn't here to kiss it better," said George. "You'll have to make do with Mum."

Harry chuckled over Ron's grimace. "C'mon, we'll let Ginny heal it."

"First I'll show the wounds to Dad. Maybe he'll stop asking for Muggle-style potatoes!"

Bill gazed after the boys, a smile twisting his face in a way George bet Fleur found dashing. "You've always known how to get under people's skin."

George thought of Alicia and smirked.

With a flick and swish of his wand, Bill put the potatoes in a pot of boiling water and used _Evanesco _on the peelings. "Do me a favour," he said. "Lay off Percy for the holidays, will you? Call it a Christmas present."

"Fine. I'll ignore him."

"No," said Bill. "That's worse. Be civil."

George rolled his eyes. "All right."

"What's all right?" asked Molly, entering the kitchen with Alicia and Ginny in tow.

George fibbed without hesitation. "I agreed not to eat a raw potato."

"Practicing for fatherhood?" Molly asked Bill with a smile. "Raw potatoes are perfectly fine to eat if they're fully ripe. It's the green potatoes that are poisonous—or give you gas."

"One in the same to those around you," said George.

Molly wrinkled her nose. "Are you referring to the time you and Fred—"

"I think Dad's calling me," George said loudly. He put a hand up to his ear. "Yeah, I better go see what he wants." He left the kitchen before his mum brought up the "magic beans" incident.

During dinner, George ate lamb and made the effort to keep his comments to himself whenever Percy pontificated about the Ministry.

His little brother felt no such restraint, commenting after Fleur shared her mother's recipe for minted gravy, "You say 'is' instead of 'ees' now. When did that happen?"

Fleur smiled adoringly at Bill. "I have ze vairy best teacher." She beamed at those gathered around the table. "I sound almost English, yes?"

_"NO!" _everyone except Bill answered back.

After the trifle was served, Harry said, "I got a Christmas Card from Mrs. Tonks. She said Teddy's started to walk. He's really cute." He took a picture out of his wallet and passed it around.

Molly sighed over the photo. "I invited Andromeda to spend Christmas with us, wrote that we consider her and Teddy part of the family now." She took a shaky breath and then said, "She promised to come next year."

"Good," said Harry.

The others echoed his determined cheerfulness.

When George was handed the picture, his eyes flickered over the baby with hair that changed from brown to blue. "He looks like Tonks," he said to Alicia, giving her the photo.

"He has four teeth," she whispered.

George was alarmed when Alicia rushed from the room after passing the photo to Fleur. "I—I better go make sure she's all right," he said.

In the lounge, he heard footsteps clattering up the stairs. He ran after her. "Alicia, wait!"

He caught up to her on the second floor. She tried to cover her face with her hands, but it was obvious Alicia was crying. He pulled her into his and Fred's old room and shut the door.

"I saw Teddy's smile," she said in a thick voice. "His little teeth—" Her body shook with sobs. "Tonks and Remus loved their baby...like we'll love our baby...and they won't get to watch him walk. They'll never hold him again or see him smile." Her crying was almost a keening. "It isn't fair! It isn't fair!"

George held her close. His eyes were burning. "I know."

"Oh gods." Alicia looked up at him. Her face was wet with tears. "You lost Fred and I'm ranting about how life isn't fair—"

"It isn't," George said sharply. "Bastards live and good people die. Draco Malfoy is spending Christmas with his parents while Teddy Lupin's an orphan. What about any of that is fair? Nothing."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I don't expect fairness." He framed her face with his hands. "And I don't want you to expect it from me."

"W—what do you mean?"

He bent to look deeply into her eyes. "I haven't been fair to you since the night I asked you to stay. If I had acted fairly, I would've stayed out of your life and we wouldn't be here right now." George's jaw tightened. "But we are here, and our baby's here—and I won't give either one of you up."

"Oh, George!"

He kissed her cheeks, her mouth. "Don't cry," he said, pressing her lips apart urgently. He wanted to ease the pain in his chest and the bitterness in his heart. His hands traced the curves of her body. The moan Alicia gave was sweet to his ears, but what he really needed to hear was the 'I love you' she'd whispered in her sleep.

There was a knock on the door. Ron's voice carried through the wood panel. "Uh, George, Mum wants to know if you're interested in setting off fireworks."

_Not those types__ of fireworks, _said a laughing voice in the back of George's mind.

George almost smiled. His "brother's" puckish commentary had been absent during the last hours. Contrarily, he'd missed it. "We'll be right down," he called.

_As soon as you take your hands off Alicia's arse and pull down her skirt._

George's fingers flexed. Did he have to?

Alicia took the decision out of his hands by stepping away to tug down her hem and run fingers through the waves of her hair. "Do I look like I've been crying?"

_S__he looks like she's been snogging. Red lips, no lipstick. Dead giveaway._

"No. You look beautiful."

He was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. "Your hair is all mussed," she said. "I see a comb on the chest if you—"

"I'd prefer finger combing if you'll do the honours," said George.

_You can use my comb, __loony. It isn't a sacred relic. _

George didn't think it was crazy to choose gentle fingers over a gag comb equally likely to tangle hair as untangle it. He smiled his thanks and opened the door. "Ready to go down and make everyone jealous that we slipped off to snog and they didn't?"

Alicia took his hand. "Ready."

-

* * *

A/N: Have yourself an angsty little Christmas? I didn't mean it that way! I originally intended to portray Christmas at The Burrow before the holiday was observed in the 'real' world, but outlines in writing, like pirate codes, are more like guidelines, really:D, and the plot (aided by Merry Massage Oil) slid in a different direction. I hope readers aren't too frustrated, will look forward to holidays carrying over into the New Year, and give this writer the gift of a review! 

I'll be taking a busman's holiday over the week of Christmas, which means although there won't be a G/A chapter on the 28th, I will be working on **Chasing Angelina**!

The jolly souls (with or without corncob pipes and button noses) that reviewed last week were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AliciaSpinnet93, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Blue Leah, btyrhtout, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, chibi angelle, dancegirl01mom, Drunken Little Monkey, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, herb3, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Kates Master, LadyOfTheCelticLand, lady clark of books, Lieu Of Flowers, maggiequeen, maraudernumba5, Master Keto, MBP, Meeh-san, MidnightBlack07, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs. Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, owl above the heavens, PhoenixDreamer55, raindancyr, Rana Mya, Slipknot-3113, Snuffles7, SOphia.weasley, Squealing Lit. Fan, Sunshine Spray, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, tiffyrose, Too. Nice. 1108, and Wezen Solo.**


	23. It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like C'mas

The Saturday before Christmas was one of the busiest shopping days of the year. By eight thirty, Anne Spinnet would be down in the shop, coffee mug in hand, tidying the shelves while keeping an eye on the door. The knowledge that her mother was waiting for her to arrive before the shop opened made Alicia feel guilty for staying in bed, but not enough to tell George to stop kissing her.

On most days, she threw back the covers seconds after the alarm went off. Recently, morning sickness hastened her trips to the loo. Today, however, she awoke with a sense of wellbeing that became complete when George whispered, "I want to kiss you good morning—everywhere."

Alicia liked the sound of that. He always found spots that made her laugh or moan: sometimes both at the same time. George had just kissed one of those spots when someone tapped on the door.

The bedroom door.

Alicia yelped and dived under the covers.

George gave a shout of laughter. "I know I said I wanted to open early today, but some things are more important than money! Be a mate and conjure up some breakfast. I'll be out in twenty—make that thirty—minutes!"

After a moment of silence, a girl's voice said, "Caper's already made breakfast."

Alicia pulled the covers down in time to see her boyfriend's jaw drop. "_Ginny?" _he said.

A faint giggle drifted through the door. "Yes."

"Tell Caper we'll be out in a few minutes," Alicia called, before lowering her voice to confess, "I forgot that I invited her to have breakfast and walk with me to the shop."

He stared at her incredulously. "You _forgot?" _

She chucked a pillow at him. "You made me forget!"

He grinned as the pillow bounced off his head. "I did, didn't I?"

Naughty Boy was a scrummy look for George. It made Alicia fancy him like mad. "Just you wait," she said, scooting off the bed to pull on a robe and gather her clothes. Her mother insisted they dress to complement the Victorian decorations, so she chose a garnet-red dress with long sleeves and a full skirt.

"Wait for what?" George said. "The shower? Can't do anything else with my baby sister around."

Alicia couldn't resist. She pressed a lingering kiss to his sulky mouth. "Wait until I kiss you goodnight—everywhere." She strolled to the door.

George caught up to her before she could turn the handle. His chest pressed against her back. "Couldn't you drop by at lunch and kiss me good afternoon?"

"I could."

He turned her into his arms and snogged her breathless.

Alicia was shivering over the memory—and her cold shower—when she walked into the kitchen. "Good morning, Caper. Good morning, Ginny, you look very Christmas-y," she said, taking a seat at the table.

The girl looked down at her white blouse and green skirt. She made a face. "Thank you, but I wish my hair wasn't the only shade of red I look good in. I'd love a dress like yours."

"I'll have to take you shopping," Alicia said. She smiled when a cup of ginger tea materialised in front of her. "Thanks," she said to Caper. He was perched on a stool by a counter, engrossed in his usual crossword. "Need any help?" she asked.

"Quidditch term, to strike with elbows, seven letters."

"_Cobbing,"_ Alicia and Ginny said at the same time.

"My thanks," Caper said absently, his eyes glued to the paper.

Alicia lifted a stasis cover from a dish of yoghurt with sliced bananas placed to the side. It was the ideal breakfast to combat nausea. "My father loved crossword puzzles," she said to Ginny.

"My dad likes them too, Muggle ones most of all. He never knows half the answers, but he loves the way the blocks sit there as if stupefied."

"So he would enjoy a Muggle book of crosswords for Christmas?"

Ginny spread a pat of butter onto a croissant. "Mum puts one in his stocking every year."

"Oh." She would have to think of something else to give him. Alicia ate a spoonful of vanilla yoghurt before asking, "What do you want for Christmas, Ginny?"

"The usual. My favourite bands' latest Orpheus Orbs, bits of jewellery, a racing broom." Ginny winked at Alicia before raising her voice. "And a dress to drive Harry mad with desire."

"For the dress or for you?" George strode into the kitchen. "You're mad—barking mad—if you think Mum will buy you anything sexy, sister."

"For me in the dress, and I didn't tell Mum. I told Alicia," Ginny said matter-of-factly.

Caper glanced up from his puzzle. A cup of coffee appeared beside George's plate.

"Thanks," said George. "Any words giving you trouble?"

"Separates the seasons. Eight letters." Caper's eyes twinkled when the three said "solstice" in unison. "My thanks."

Alicia stared at the house-elf. Did he really need help with the crossword, or did he ask so they could feel helpful? In Ancient Runes, _Gebo _was the rune of balance: giving and receiving. Allowing someone to do something for you was a dual gift. She waited until Caper glanced up to mouth "my thanks." He ducked his head bashfully, but the tips of his ears were a pleased pink.

After breakfast, the girls threw on their cloaks and walked briskly toward The Light Fantastic. Ginny said, "I wish Kreacher was more like Caper. George's house-elf is so nice. Kreacher would never conjure everyone a separate breakfast or work a crossword puzzle. He reads the obituaries."

"Caper isn't George's house-elf. He's a valued employee," Alicia said automatically.

Ginny's eyes danced. "Keep saying that—especially when Hermione's around."

They were giggling when they entered the shop.

"That's a festive sound," Anne said, "and perfect timing. I thought I'd have to open on my own."

"I'm here, I'm here, with Christmas cheer!" cried Zoe, bringing a rush of cold into the evergreen-scented shop.

Alicia saw Ginny's eyes pop when the older girl took off her fur-trimmed cloak to reveal a plum velvet evening gown with a plunging neckline. Alicia winked at her before saying in a stage whisper, "I'm sure that dress will cheer our male customers."

Zoe burst into peals of laughter. "Not the dress. The chestnuts!" She dug into a velvet drawstring pouch to bring out little paper bags. "I had a lovely conversation with the man who runs the stand at the corner of Knockturn," she said, handing out chestnuts. "He says charms protect his fingertips while he's turning the nuts, and slow-roasting over low heat is what makes shells peel perfectly."

"Over low heat?" Anne asked. "I'll try that the next time I grill a few chestnuts over the fire. The inner skin always seems to stick to the nut when I roast them."

"Could be 'cause they're bad—wormy or mouldy, but I'd bet it's your roasting. Halim said relationships aren't the only things that get sticky when they get too hot too fast." A second after she spoke, Zoe turned contrite eyes on Alicia. "Sorry," she said in a small voice. "I didn't mean your—"

"—It's okay," Alicia said. "I don't mind if you tell Ginny I burn my marshmallows when we conjure fires in the back alley. I like sticky sweets."

"Me too," Ginny said. "Anything chocolate coated. Toffees and jellies…."

"Squidgy gummies!" Zoe cried. "Fizzy jelly snakes and gums shaped like beer pint pots!"

Alicia looked at her mother. Anne was calmly peeling blackened shells from chestnuts. "I prefer starchy things with only a trace of sweetness," she said calmly.

"Here. Have mine, then!" Alicia tossed her bag onto the counter and told Ginny, "I'll give you a tour so you can point new customers to the right area of the shop." Immediately, she walked toward the back. "We display the decorative lighting up front to draw in impulse buyers." She waved a hand at the middle of the shop. "This is where you'll find task lighting. Desk orbs, ceiling pendants, plain to posh, we have a full range of illumination guaranteed to eliminate glare and minimise shadowing."

"That sounds like an advert."

Alicia smiled at Ginny's humorous tone. "I write the copy for our owl post-order catalogue."

"Bet it sells. What's in the back?"

"Ambient and accent lighting. Wall fixtures, flood orbs, spot orbs, pendant or portable, when a customer wants general lighting or to add a touch of drama by highlighting a painting or sculpture, this is where they'll find what they need." Aware that she'd slipped into sales-speak again, Alicia said wryly, "Got it?"

"Yes, but—if you don't mind me asking—did you think your mum was talking about more than sweets? Is that why you got upset?"

Alicia nodded. "I thought she was bringing up how things used to be—or an ex-boyfriend of mine."

"So you were making a point, giving her the chestnuts." Ginny held out her bag. "Here. I'll share."

"No, that's okay." Alicia glanced around and then whispered, "I don't really like chestnuts."

"Neither do I," said Ginny. "Not since George—"

"—told you they taste like warm snot?"

Ginny gave a startled laugh. "He used that on you, too?"

"Our first Hogsmeade Weekend. I only bought chestnuts because I was homesick. I just wanted to carry them around in my pocket, all nice and warm, until he said that." George had walked up, given his disgusting opinion, and stood smirking, daring her with his eyes.

"You've got a dreamy smile on your face. What did you do?"

"I threw the nuts at him," Alicia said, remembering the way he had grinned at her, looking adorably naughty as he picked up the chestnuts and sauntered off.

"I didn't," Ginny said in a tone of sisterly satisfaction. "I knew that was what he wanted, so I didn't give it to him."

_That's why I'm glad I'm George's girlfriend and not his sister, _Alicia thought with an inner smile. _I know what he wants and I love to give it to him._

_-_

Early morning was the slowest time of the day. He had just bid farewell to the first customer in an hour when Ron, Harry, and Hermione entered the shop. The imp of mischief with the voice of his brother chuckled.

_Opportunity doesn't always knock. Sometimes it walks in the front door._

George didn't believe in wasting opportunities. He said, "What's this? Three workers for the price of one? I accept."

The trio exchanged confused glances.

"You'll be interns," George said, "gathering work experience in a professional environment." He'd made it up as he went along, but the idea was starting to grow on him. He needed to do some Christmas shopping, and three could assist Caper better than one.

Hermione frowned. "Internships are academically sponsored—"

"Unless they're not," George said. "That doesn't make workplace learning any less valuable."

Harry's smile was wistful as he looked around the shop. "I wouldn't be much help. People would ask me about fighting Voldemort, not where to find the deluxe Skiving Snackboxes."

"Not if you used an Appearance Charm—and out of curiosity—where would you tell a customer to look?"

"To the left of the door, third shelf, I think."

_I think he should find out if blondes have more fun._

George plucked a pink box from a display stand and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Use this. Don't let the packaging put you off. We named it _Senorita Incognita _for the WonderWitch line, but Fred and I both tested it. It makes you look different for a few hours—not like a girl."

_Unless __he considers long blond hair girly._

He waited until Harry went out of the room to say to Hermione, "Have I ever told you how much I admire your organisational skills?"

After Hermione left to update the office filing system, George turned to Ron. "You're hacked off, aren't you?"

"Why should I be angry?" Ron said bitterly. "Because I'm the one you hired and now my friends are working for free? Because I know where the Skiving Snackboxes are too, but you didn't ask, because think of me as your stupid little brother—"

"—Oi!" George said sharply. "You're my little brother, but I've never thought you were stupid. You play chess," he said, figuring that said it all. "And you _like _it!"

"You don't?"

Amused by Ron's incredulity, George said, "No, but I'll use it as an analogy. If the shop's a chessboard, I'm the king. I want to make a move, do some important Christmas shopping, but I need pawns to hold the line and protect me."

"I'd rather be a knight."

"One day, maybe. Today you're a pawn."

"What's Caper?"

"Bishop. He can move as many squares as he likes, and you'll do what he says when I'm not here."

Ron slowly smiled. "Important Christmas shopping—for Alicia?"

George narrowed his eyes. "Don't be too clever for your own good."

"I won't." Ron edged away. "I'll go help Hermione with the filing."

"Snogging isn't helping. Remember that!"

Harry returned to the main shop. "How do I look?"

_Like Lucius Malfoy without the pimp cane._

It was the white-blond hair, George decided. He waved Caper over. "Harry, you remember Caper. Caper, Harry will go by the name James today. He'll be helping in the shop, but first he needs a haircut."

_Or a pimp cane._

Once Harry looked less like a Malfoy and a puffy-lipped Ron had been steered out of the office, George left the shop. He meandered down Diagon Alley, window-shopping, until a colourful object caught his eye. It was exactly what he needed.

His find put George in such a good mood; he closed the shop and took the group out to lunch at _La Trattoria_. Over pizza, he whispered to Alicia, "Later, I'm going to kiss you good afternoon, good night, and good morning."

His cheerful frame of mind lasted until Christmas Eve. His parents insisted the entire family sleep under the same roof in order to spend Christmas morning together. George would rather have slept in their bed at the flat, but since Alicia agreed, he was willing to share his childhood bunk with her.

Only it wasn't a bunk anymore. In its place was a double bed.

He dumped their luggage on the floor and stormed down to the kitchen.

"Did a Nargle crawl out of the mistletoe and into your brain?" he said with forced calmness. His first impulse had been to grab the rolling pin and slam it hard against the floury counter.

His mother didn't pretend not to know what he was talking about. "I didn't get rid of them. The bunks are stored away in the attic."

"Who asked you to do that?"

"Nobody. I was thinking about Alicia's comfort."

George laughed shortly. "You sure weren't thinking about mine."

He slammed the back door on the way outside. It was cold, he wasn't wearing a cloak, and knew he was overreacting, but didn't care. Mum had no right to make that kind of decision!

Feeling like a moody teenager, George decided to go somewhere he could be alone. The house was crammed to the rafters with family and friends, so he headed to the tree house. Magically fused into the branches of an enormous oak, the space had been big enough for him and Fred to camp out overnight.

He climbed up the ladder growing out of the trunk and discovered the tree house floor was also wide enough for a couple to lie down while making out.

Ron and Hermione sprang apart when he facetiously rapped on the floor before pulling himself up into the tree house. "Nice fire you conjured in that bell jar, Hermione," said George, "but I don't think its warm enough for you to leave buttons undone."

"OH!" She began to thrust her shirt buttons through coordinating holes frantically.

"I wasn't even wearing a shirt," Ron said defiantly, dragging a tee down over his bare chest before reaching for a jumper. "Why'd you notice _her _clothes?"

George smirked. "She's wearing a pretty pink bra and you're not."

"It's a red bra," Ron said, "and you'd better not be looking—"

"Ronald, he's obviously upset and displacing anger." Hermione smoothed her hair down, used her fingers to comb Ron's, and then kissed him on the cheek. "I'll go inside. You stay and talk."

"What are you angry about?" Ron said, when George didn't spill his guts on cue.

"Mum took down our bunks and put them in the attic."

There was a few seconds of silence. "Sorry."

"Yeah."

A minute passed. Ron said, "Would it make you feel better to know she wouldn't let me put the bunks in my room—even though Harry's sleeping on a lumpy fold-away mattress, and keeps snogging Ginny on my bed, 'cause it's more comfortable, even though he's got to know it creeps me out, since I spray Hermione's perfume to fumigate—not that Mum knows—"

"Yeah," George cut in. He asked, "Why don't you use itching powder to keep them off your bed?"

"Don't have any."

"Stop by my room," George said. "I'll give you an early Christmas present."

While the two sat grinning, they heard their mother yell, "You'll catch your deaths of cold! Come inside to trim the tree!"

George looked at Ron. Together they hollered, "Yes, Mum!"

-

* * *

A/N: Five AM and I'm wide awake typing this author note:D. Actually, I'm practically zombie Kerichi, but I shall post this and then fall into a coma-like sleep matched only by vampires. Before I do, I have to thank the readers who took time out of their Christmas holiday to make mine merry and bright by reviewing! You're the ones I'll stay up all night for (and alphabetize for!) Happy New Year and thanks to…**40/16, adrienne06052, AliciaSpinnet93, alix33, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bardlover, Carnivalgirl, Cindy, CullenNHaleMenUJustCantGetEnuf, dancegirl01mom, DigiNinMon, Eirwen555, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, FlameintheFlood, flyingXfreely, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, ginnylovesharry07, GraceRichie, Jo Claire, Kates Master, lady clark of books, Lady Of The Celtic Land, maltese-princess, MBP, meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, owlfactory, PhoenixDreamer55, Princess Persephone, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, snuffles7, Squealing Lit. Fan, steph, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, tambrathegreat, taliapony, Tara-Yo, tiffyrose, and WEASLEYLOVER. **


	24. Christmas Eve

Alicia stood in the centre of the room, taking everything in from the Cannons posters on the wall to the numerous scorch marks on the wardrobe. George had stormed out, and he was bound to start a row with his mother. She should go downstairs and try to make peace between the two. Molly was only being thoughtful, exchanging the bunks for a double bed.

She stayed where she was. There had been too many holidays spent wondering what George's bedroom looked like, too many fantasies about what would happen if he invited her to visit. Her inner schoolgirl was squeeing and demanding she touch something—right now!

Curiosity took her over to the wardrobe. She ran her fingertips across charred wood. _Did you test fireworks indoors?_ She smiled at the thought and opened the panel.

There were a few shirts on hangers and a couple of jumpers folded neatly on a shelf. She glanced over her shoulder. It would be embarrassing to be caught sighing over his old clothes. No one was in the doorway, so she gave into girlish impulse. She lifted a blue jumper and rubbed it against her cheek, breathing in deeply. It didn't smell like George. His mum must've used a Dry-Clean Charm. She stroked the fabric and kissed the yellow 'G'.

"Zat is so sweet."

Alicia whirled around to face Fleur. "Where did you come from?"

"Upstairs."

"Oh. I didn't hear you Apparate."

Fleur's lips curved. "Bill says I Apparate wiz only ze daintiest popping sound."

Alicia had given the jumper a smacking kiss. She tried not to blush. "Is it safe for you to Apparate?"

"Safe for the bébé? Oui!" She caressed her rounded stomach, looking like a snow queen in her white polo neck maternity dress. "Ze midwitch told us so." She beamed with pride. "Our little one 'as eyebrows now. We saw zem in ze scrying bowl last appointment."

"Do you still want to wait to find out if it's a boy or girl?"

"_Mais Oui! _Like a Christmas present, ze bébé will be a joyous surprise!" She tilted her head. "Will you wait, too?"

"No. At twenty weeks, I want to know. If George doesn't, I'll keep it a secret like his Christmas present," Alicia said with a smile.

"He will love hees—I mean his—gift!" Fleur said grandly. "After all, I 'elped to pick it out!"

Alicia remembered their shopping spree. "I think we ate more than we shopped."

Fleur waved a hand airily. "Mere nibbles. We are _enceinte_. We eat for two." She patted her middle. "My stomach is growling from the memory. Let us go downstairs. I brought a _fromage_ plate."

Alicia returned the jumper to the wardrobe. She could nibble on something. "You do have excellent taste in cheese."

"_Mais __naturellment! _French _fromage _is ze best." Fleur led the way downstairs, assuring that once Alicia had tasted Beaufort, a dense, buttery cheese from the Alps, she would crave it forevermore.

Alicia sampled the cheese and admired its nutty flavour, but wasn't prepared to go into raptures over it. She left that to Fleur.

"Ah, ze fruity aroma!"

Ginny was standing nearby. She raised her eyebrows at Alicia. "Is she talking about cheese or wine?"

"Cheese."

"Good. I know it's bad for the baby to drink while you're pregnant." Ginny gazed over to where Arthur and Percy stood watching Harry and Bill played chess beneath a canopy of enchanted candles and red and gold streamers. "I'd never do that."

Alicia wondered if she had ever stared at George the way Ginny looked at Harry, wearing her heart on her sleeve for anyone to see. The thought made her uncomfortable.

Molly and Hermione entered the lounge, bringing mulled cider and the scent of spices into the room. After the two set the cauldron down on a side table decorated with greenery, Fleur was the first to fill a cup. She smiled her approval of the taste before carrying the drink over to Bill.

Hermione watched Fleur perch on the arm of Bill's chair. A slight frown crossed the girl's face. "There's something different about her."

"I think it's the pregnancy glow," Alicia said. "I wish I had that."

"You're almost there, dear." Molly patted Alicia's arm. "Once you get past the morning sickness, you'll feel on top of the world." Her eyes twinkled. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

"It's the Veela thing," Ginny said with certainty. "Fleur's pregnant, so the glamour that makes men stare like idiots isn't there." Her grin was impish. "I know it's true, because Harry hasn't called her ugly the way he usually does."

"Ron hasn't stammered once when she's around," Hermione said in a tone of discovery. "And you haven't called her Phlegm!"

Ginny shrugged. "I hardly ever do that anymore."

"She has gained a bit of weight," Molly said thoughtfully. She noticed Alicia's defensive expression and said, "Weasley men like their women curvy."

Ginny smirked at Hermione. "We'd better get you some food, then."

Hermione's face turned pink. "The cheese platter does look good, but I'm only eating because I'm hungry."

The two moved toward the appetizers. "Funny how visiting the tree house made you work up an appetite," Ginny said in an undertone.

"I could say the same about you climbing up and down the stairs to Harry's room," Hermione shot back.

Alicia glanced at the woman standing beside her. Had she heard?

Molly winked. "Children often confuse selective hearing with being hard of hearing. Try the cider," she said, reaching for a cup and singing softly, "_I'll boil you up a cauldron of hot, strong love." _

The Celestina Warbeck song wasn't Alicia's idea of a Christmas carol, but the mulled cider tasting of cinnamon, orange, and nutmeg was delicious. She complimented Molly and took another sip.

_"To keep you warm tonight," _Molly crooned, serving herself. Her gaze flickered around the room. "Excuse me for a moment," she said, bustling toward the kitchen.

Alicia was deliberating whether to try a few different cheeses or be mindful of healthy eating habits and go watch the chess match when Percy strolled over. "Would you like some mulled cider?" she asked, reaching for the ladle.

"Yes, thank you."

After she handed over the steaming cup, Alicia said, "Will Penelope join us for Christmas dinner?"

"Perhaps. I invited her." He took a drink. "Is your mother joining us?"

"Yes. She's with friends to—" Alicia broke off when a shout rang out.

_You'll catch your deaths of cold! Come inside to trim the tree!_

"Molly's never needed a Sonorous Charm," Arthur said with quiet humour.

Everyone laughed except Percy. His faint smile didn't reach his eyes.

Although she had spent most of their shared years at Hogwarts avoiding "Percy the Prat" as George called him, Alicia was determined not to do so any longer. She reached out to touch his arm. "Is everything all right?" she asked.

His lips twisted. "You don't want to hear my woes."

Percy sounded resigned to misery. Alicia unconsciously gripped his arm the way she would to encourage a friend. "Yes, I do, _Uncle Percy._"

His eyes dropped to her abdomen. "I'll try to be a good uncle," he said, "but I must confess—"

"Here we are," Molly cried, sailing into the room with George and Ron in tow. "When Charlie arrives we'll decorate the tree." Her tone rang with satisfaction.

Alicia became aware of two things at once. She was still holding onto Percy's arm, and George looked very dissatisfied to see her standing so close to his least favourite brother.

-

He didn't normally view Ron as the observant type, but George had to give his brother credit when he said, "If you're going to hex Percy, think again. Mum will thump your good ear if you try. Besides, you made a promise to Bill."

"How do you know about that?" The speed with which Alicia dropped Percy's arm mollified George slightly. He decided to wait and allow her to explain the situation. It would help him decide which jinx to use.

Ron snorted. "Your attitude improved after Harry and I left the kitchen. I didn't need Hermione's help to figure out why."

George watched Alicia say something to Percy that caused him to nod and move away to join the others. "Then why don't you figure out that I want to have a private conversation with Alicia, not you, and shove off."

"I will, but _you _should figure out that your girlfriend's not coming over here. She's waiting for you to go to her."

Ronnikins was right; Alicia hadn't moved. George hid his annoyance. "I'm thirsty," he said lightly. "I think I'll try the cider."

"I'm hungry," Ron said almost as casually. "I think I'll go have some hors d'oeuvres."

Left alone, George was forced to cross the room or look like an idiot. In vain, he stood in front of Alicia, waiting for her to start talking. She continued to regard him silently. A minute into their standoff, he said, "Did Mum put you on cauldron duty?"

"No. I took it on somehow. Would you like a cup of cider?"

"Yes."

He could feel her eyes on his face while he drank.

"Percy's upset," Alicia said softly. "He was about to tell me why when you came in."

George set down his cup. "I didn't like seeing you two acting cosy."

"We weren't acting cosy. I was being sympathetic."

"I know." He edged closer. "I was still jealous."

"I know," she said. Her lips curved. "That's why I want you to talk to Percy. He'll feel better and you'll stop thinking he's got a weird fetish for pregnant women."

George was reluctantly amused. "I'm only fixated on one pregnant woman," he said. "You."

Alicia rubbed the bump mostly hidden beneath the high waist of her scarlet wrap top. "I'm fixated on you, too. That's how I got this way, remember?"

He placed his hand over hers. "I remember."

She lifted her head and swayed toward him. George was leaning in for a kiss when a whooshing sound came from the fireplace.

Charlie was home.

His brother stepped onto the hearth, rugged and bronzed. The family swarmed to greet him, with Molly shouldering her way to the head of the pack. "Oh, Charlie, now the family's all here!"

_Except Fred, _George thought with a pang.

He felt Alicia's arm press against his. "Charlie's almost as handsome as you are."

George watched his mum hug the breath out of his older brother, recalling the times he and Fred used to go pub-crawling with Bill and Charlie. A few women had asked if the younger brothers were triplets. Admittedly, they were bubble-heads, with blurry eyesight that couldn't distinguish rampant freckles from a "gorgeous tan", and who slurred their words as they gushed on and on about dragons.

He peered sideways. "Some women find Dragon-Keepers more exciting than joke shop proprietors."

Alicia's eyes rounded. "How did you know?"

"Know what?" He'd expected reassurance that she found him more exciting than his brother—not a guilty confession!

"That my friend Bridget has a crush on Charlie! She's wanted me to introduce them ever since she found out you and I were going together."

George suddenly got a mental image of the ditzy blonde clinging to Charlie like a leech and gushing about pretty dragons, driving his brother to the edge of reason. Two strong arms encircled him in a crushing bear hug that cut off his chuckle.

"I couldn't believe it when Percy owled that you were going to be a daddy! Congratulations!"

"Thanks. You remember Alicia," George said when Charlie let him go.

"Of course!"

After all the catching up was done, Molly began handing out boxes and baskets filled with decorations. "I thought you'd like to hang the ones George made," she told Alicia. "He always liked animals, fashioning them out of dough and fabric, paint and paper." She pointed to a spot in the basket. "There's an adorable mice family. The baby's sleeping in a walnut shell."

Her eyes were shiny when she gave George a small brown box. "Find somewhere special to place these."

He opened the lid and felt his throat grow tight. Fred had always hated making crafts, wondering why they couldn't just throw on a few coloured balls and angel hair onto the tree and have done with it. He wanted to invent gags, not decorations. The only ornaments he had ever created with enthusiasm were his beloved, demented snowmen.

Made from a variety of paper, cotton batting, wool felt, twigs and sticky glue, each snowman was unique.

"I like the snowman holding a snowball," Alicia said.

_He's contemplating snowman evolution, _Fred's "voice" said gleefully.

Alicia giggled when he told her. "And that one?"

She was pointing to the snowman bent over, mouth open, twig arms wrapped around his middle.

_I made that after we__ had eggplant casserole for dinner. _

"Mum's cooking didn't agree with Fred that night," he said, smiling a bit at the memory.

Another snowman caught her eye. "What's on his head?"

_That__ was your idea, mate._

"It's a hot water bottle," said George. "He's committing suicide." When she laughed, he grinned. "I'm to blame for that one."

"Those are so cool," Harry said, coming over to look into the box over George's shoulder. "My favourite is the snowman eating a snow cone."

"Here," George said. "You hang it up."

Harry backed away. "No—"

"He'd want you to."

"Okay."

Ginny saw the ornament in Harry's hand and rushed over. "May I hang the Snowmen Prophets of Doom?"

_She always did appreciate my genius._

"Sure." George picked out two blobs of felt with miniature carrots and coal sliding off the sides of their faces. Each held a tiny sign in their twig hands.

Ginny lifted one up. "Hey, Ron! Do you want to hang **Spring Is Near **or **The End Is Coming!**"

"The End!" Ron said.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Think you're the end all and be all, do you?"

Ron cut his eyes toward Hermione. "To some people."

George chuckled along with the others and offered the box to Charlie. The snowmen were passed along until only Percy and George had yet to hang one of Fred's ornaments.

There was only one left.

_Did you plan this? Bit of__ an evil genius, you are._

George ignored the cheeky comment. "Want to put it on the tree together, brother?"

Percy swallowed hard. "Okay."

The ornament was made up of three snowmen. The middle snowman was being choked by the twiggy hands of the snowman on either side. He had a noticeably bigger head. The snowmen doing the choking wore identical red scarves.

George whispered, "Happy Christmas, brother," as they hung the ornament on a branch.

"Happy Christmas," Percy said.

Tears were stinging the back of George's eyes. "I wasn't talking to you," he said in a low voice, turning away before he did something that would ruin Christmas for everyone.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. It took all George's concentration to sit and pretend to eat and listen along with the group. The moment his mother made a smiling comment about Father Christmas not coming until everyone was asleep; he stood and headed for the stairs.

"I'd better go up and make sure he isn't being naughty trying to search for presents," he heard Alicia say.

He pulled her into his arms when she opened the bedroom door, kissing her deeply. "Tell me you love it when I'm naughty," he said, kicking the door closed. He steered her toward the bed, unfastening her clothes and his own between passionate kisses.

"I love it," she gasped, when he drew her down onto the mattress. Her hands slid down to squeeze his arse. "I love it so much."

Later, when his heartbeat slowed into a normal rhythm, George began to sob. Alicia wrapped her arms around him. "It's okay, love. You can cry. It's okay." He didn't know if it was her tears splashing his face or his own. He held onto her and cried for all the Christmases he would spend without Fred.

In the early hours of Christmas morning, he slipped out bed to go downstairs for a drink. He found Percy sitting on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. His curly hair stuck up all over his head, his white shirt was half unbuttoned; his tie pulled down so low it resembled a necklace. "Lookin' for Firewhisky? I got the bottle."

George eyed the almost-empty container. "I was going to get a drink from the kitchen."

"D'you really wanna choke me?" Percy asked, using the neck of the bottle to point toward the snowmen ornament.

"Sometimes."

Percy squinted up at him. "'Cause you hate me."

George copied his brother's matter-of-fact tone. "Sometimes."

"And you want me to die." Percy lifted the bottle to his lips.

George took it away. "No, I don't," he said. "I just wish Fred was alive."

His brother's face crumpled. "I shoulda been the one to die. I'm the Humongous Bighead. I'm the one that broke Mum's heart. You hate me. Penelope hates me—"

"I said I don't hate you, and why do you think Penelope does?"

"She says I don't talk to her, that I'm emotionally detached, whatever the stars that means."

George hauled Percy to his feet. "It means you don't let her see you cry."

Percy blinked like a drunken owl. "You let Alicia see you cry?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll do it too." Percy staggered toward the fireplace, scooping up Floo Powder and holding it aloft like a torch or a sword. "Tell Mum and Dad we'll be here for Christmas dinner."

"Unless you pass out and Penelope lets you sleep it off."

Percy stumbled backwards into the Floo. "I won't pass out." He smiled goofily. "I'm glad you don't hate me."

"Go on," George said. "Get out of here."

After he made sure Percy Flooed to the right address, George grabbed a bottle of butterbeer from the kitchen and returned to his room.

Alicia asked sleepily, "Is everything all right?"

He adjusted the night orb to shine more brightly and walked over to the chest. "I had a talk with Percy," he said, removing a shoe box- sized, silver wrapped present from a drawer. "He's gone to work things out with Penelope."

"That's wonderful!" Alicia sat up, pushing wavy curls behind her shoulder. "Did it put you in the mood to open gifts?"

"No. I just want you to open this one. Please."

She reached for the present. "There's no holes, so it isn't a kitten or a family of mice." She shook the box. "What could it be?"

George sat on the edge of the mattress, facing her. "Open it."

Alicia tore through the paper and opened the box. "A nesting doll!" she exclaimed, lifting out the colourful hand-painted wooden figure that was rounded at the top and tapered at the bottom. It's beautiful!"

"It's a _Matryoshka_," he said. "From Russia. I thought it looked like you."

"Dark hair, brown eyes, rosy cheeks. She's even wearing red." Alicia touched the scarf covering the _Matryoshka's_ hair. "I like the couple painted on her front. He has red hair."

"Don't expect me to play the accordion like that bloke."

"As long as you dance," she said teasingly, opening the doll to reveal a smaller figure. "Oh, she's painted with a different holiday scene."

"All of them are," George said. "There's seven."

"The number of completeness." Alicia admired each doll as it was revealed.

George's heart was pounding in his chest by the time she unveiled the last figure. It was too small to have more than a face and clothing painted on its wooden surface.

Alicia ran a fingertip along the crease in the middle of the doll. "The last one is supposed to be solid." Her eyes searched his face.

"I requested an alteration," he said. "Open it."

Her fingers were shaking as she slowly pulled the _Matryoshka _apart to reveal the ring hidden inside.

-

* * *

A/N: Is anyone screaming? Squeeing? I thought it would be Christmas this chapter, but it turned out to be Christmas Eve. I think the countdown has officially kicked up a notch now. :D Special thanks to **Slipknot-3113 **for living someplace snowy and reminding me of the genius of Bill Waterson's _Calvin and Hobbes. _If readers have never heard of the cartoon, never seen Calvin's twistedly brilliant "Snow Art", they can go to **www dot angelfire dot com/wa/zzaran/calvin dot html** (FF cuts out websites if you keep in the "dots" so remember to put the periods back in with no spaces to use the link!) to peruse the Snow Art Gallery and see where Fred's snowmen ornaments (and the 'snowman evolution' 'eggplant casserole' 'committing suicide' and 'snowmen prophets of doom' lines) came from! It made me cry, thinking about George hanging his twin's ornaments, so making them cheerfully demented was my way of coping...and getting me in the right mood for brotherly chats and gift giving! 

If anyone's interested in seeing the _**matryoshka **_I used as the pattern for the one George gave Alicia, I put a link to a photo on my profile page. :)

The people I have to thank for not only being interested enough to read, but generous enough to share their thoughts in a review last chapter were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, btyrhrtout, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, cream tea anyone, Creative Touch, CullenNHaleMenUJustCantGetEnuf, dancegirl01mom, DaphneD, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, FNP, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, Herb3-HeatherRoseBlack, Jo Claire, Kates Master, KoolAidNightmare, Kyla, lady clark of books, LadyOfTheCelticLand, LostHeart4, MBP, meeh-san, MidnightBlack07, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, owlfactory, PhoenixDreamer55, pretzel.in.a.egg, sinful delight, siriuslycoco, snuffles7, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, tambrathegreat, tidbit2008, tiffyrose and xoxphoenix. **


	25. Christmas

The ring was beautiful—and terrifying.

Alicia wanted to see the diamond sparkling on her finger, yet fought the urge to shut it back inside the matryoshka. It was the most romantic moment of her life. She should be throwing her arms around George, laughing and crying with joy. Instead, she stared at the ring, paralysed by conflicting emotions. "It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Will you marry me?"

Part of her wanted to say yes without hesitation. She loved George. She wanted to spend her life with him, raise a family together—but her fears couldn't be ignored. "Why?" she asked.

"I want you to be my wife." George's eyes were dark and serious.

_His wife…. _

All those times she'd written Mrs. George Weasley on scraps of parchment, imagining what would it feel like to be Alicia Weasley; past dreams could come true. So could the ones about the future. She said, "A few months ago you weren't ready for a relationship—"

"Things have changed," George said quickly.

Her doubts rose up. "You mean the baby."

"No. I've changed."

Instantly, her heart began to race.

"I don't push people away anymore. I don't drink to get through the nights. My life is better than I thought it could be, and it's because of you," George said. "I don't ever want to lose what we have."

He wasn't declaring his love, but it gave her hope. "You won't," she said. "I didn't move in with you because I'm pregnant."

She wasn't openly declaring her love, but George smiled as though she had. "I know."

Alicia glanced down at the ring. "Marriage is a lifelong commitment."

"That's what I want." George reached for the box the matryoshkahad been wrapped in. "I'm ready to make a commitment. A promise." He brought out a tiny scroll of parchment. "This promise." He unrolled the paper and read, _"I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night and the eyes into which I smile in the morning."_

Tears sprang to her eyes. George wasn't proposing because he wanted the baby to be a Weasley, or because living together was going so well. He truly cared about her happiness.

George said, "I don't remember who wrote that. When I asked Caper to go to the library and copy wedding vows for me, he brought back a scroll that stretched the width of the shop. Most of it's a blur to me now. I think that's Celtic, though."

"It is," Alicia said. "My parents spoke those vows. Mum wrote them on the first page of their wedding album."

"So you like it?"

She looked into his eyes. "Do you mean it?"

He kissed her gently. "Yes." George took the ring out of the base of the nesting doll. "Will you marry me?"

Alicia held out her left hand. It trembled only slightly. "Yes."

The moment he slid the engagement ring on her finger, she threw her arms around his neck.

He held her tight, chuckling. "I've heard of naked proposals, but I don't think this is what they had in mind."

She smiled mistily. "Who is 'they'?"

"Dunno...probably Muggles." George kissed her lips and then the corners of her eyes. "These are happy tears, I hope."

"The happiest."

George's hands caressed her back. "I'll be happy if you always sleep naked. Can we make it one of the vows?" He looked at her with suspiciously wide-eyed earnestness. "It would give me a reason to smile in the morning."

Two could play that game. Alicia said sweetly. "We'll ask your mum what she thinks."

He gave a bark of appalled laughter. "No, we won't!"

It was fun to be the mischievous one for a change. "Why not? She's a married woman. She has—"

George cut her off before she could say "sex". "_Had," _he said firmly. "Had. Six times. For procreation only. Fred and I decided anything else was too disturbing."

She couldn't resist teasing him a little more. "So when the baby gets older, we're going to say we're napping behind our locked door on the weekends?"

"That's what my parents told—" George broke off and groaned. "Are you trying to ruin Christmas? Give me mental scars? Make me unable to practice my husbandly duty?" He lunged toward the foot of the bed. "Where's your stocking? I'm taking back a present."

"No!" Alicia said, before she caught the wicked gleam in his eye. "Oh!" she cried, tugging her velvet stocking out of his hands. "I thought I was having you on, and you were having me on!"

His grin was naughty and nice. "That's the best—having each other."

Her eyes fell to her ring. "Yes, it is."

A pile of gold silk fell into her lap. "Better put that on before I start getting ideas to have you instead of sweets."

Alicia slid an arm into the sleeve of her robe. "It's four o'clock. Were you up this early every Christmas?"

"Yes. Weren't you?"

"No, and I think it frustrated my parents. They would shake jingle bells outside my door if I didn't wake by eight."

George's slow smile made her heart skip a beat. "How would you like to be the one doing the waking this year?"

She toyed with the ends of her sash. "What if we unwrap all our presents and then...get sleepy?"

He pulled her bow undone. "We'll set an alarm." George winked and retied the sash—loosely.

"Okay...open a present."

"No. Ladies first—engagement rings don't count."

Alicia was too curious about a small box in the top of her stocking to argue.

She quickly tore open the wrapping. "Oh!"

"You like it, then?"

She lifted the Celtic trinity knot necklace set with diamonds. "It matches the engraving on the ring. I love it." She kissed George to show how much.

He fastened the necklace for her. "The only other time I've bought a necklace was a year after we opened the shop. Fred and I chipped in to get a pendant for mum. She never wore it, so I don't think she fancied it."

"What kind of pendant was it?"

"A dragon."

Alicia said, "Maybe she thought the gift had a double meaning."

George laughed. "Maybe it did." He reached a hand into his stocking and pulled out a box that magically expanded. "Clever!" he said, tearing the paper eagerly.

She watched his face as he lifted the lid off the garment box. His excitement made her smile. "I noticed you wear darker colours now," she said.

He stood to try on the full-length dragon hide coat, running his fingers over the black scales. "Norwegian Ridgeback—even Charlie'll be jealous!" George gave her a quick kiss and walked over to examine his reflection in the mirror. "I am the epitome of cool."

Alicia giggled. He was cute, too.

George mock scowled before looking down at his bare feet. "If only I had boots to match."

She drew in a breath.

He glanced up, speculation in his eyes. "Do I have another gift?"

"You might."

George was at the side of the bed in two strides. "Then hurry up, it's your turn to open a present!"

She slipped her hand into the stocking.

"No, not in there, that's just filler stuff, sweets and a personalised Daydream Charm. This is the real gift." An enormous white basket appeared upon the bed. "I stored it in the attic," he said. "The ghoul had better not have gnawed at the ribbons."

"He didn't," she said, untying the pastel ribbons holding the cellophane.

George sat beside her. "Shop clerks tried to sell me baby stuff, but I figured you needed pampering more than a layette."

She sighed at the sight of lotions, creams, bath gels and scented candles. When she saw the pregnancy journal, she almost started crying. It was so sweet. "This is lovely," she said in a wobbly voice.

"The journal has a place to put a picture every month." George brushed her face with his fingertips. "Happy tears again?"

She nodded. "Your other big present is under the bed."

George kissed both her cheeks, smiling widely as he dropped to his knees to peer under the bed. "I don't see it."

"Let me counter the Disillusionment Charm."

"The charm works on objects too?" George sat on the floor to unwrap the box. "If only Fred and I had known. The trouble we could have avoided."

"Or got into."

"You know me so well," he replied, sliding his feet into the boots. He rose to pace back and forth.

It was easy for Alicia to imagine George as a boy, stomping around in boots playing dress up. He had probably worn the same boyish look of self-satisfaction. She glanced down at her belly. _Are you a boy? _she thought. _Will you be as adorable as your father?_

"So, what do you think?"

George stood in front of her with a "am I sexy or what?" expression on his face. Alicia set her basket and the Christmas stockings on the floor and reached for the sash of his robe. "I think it's time to unwrap another present."

The blaring of the alarm caused her to bolt upright.

"Sorry. Fred was a heavy sleeper." George rubbed her back. "Time to spread Christmas cheer."

They had dressed after their intimate gift exchange in order to be ready when the alarm went off. Alicia said, "What should we transfigure into jingle bells? There's a comb on the dresser we could use."

"That's Fred's."

Alicia started to apologise, but George cut her off. "Let's use it."

The bells made the loudest, most annoying jangling sound Alicia had ever heard. "They're brilliant!" she whispered, as they ran down the stairs after making their rounds.

"Fred claimed he elevated aggravation to an art form," George said, changing the bells back into a comb.

They lit a fire in the lounge and then snuggled in a chair, looking at the tree. "Muggles don't have shrinking spells. How do they fit all their gifts under the branches?" George asked, rubbing her abdomen in lazy circles.

"I don't think they try." Alicia leaned back against his chest and wondered if she'd start purring, she was so contented.

"But that means anyone could shake the presents, poke them, see how heavy they are, and guess what's inside."

"Mmmhmm..."

George's fingers began drumming on her middle. "If Dad's making us celebrate Muggle-style—waiting to open presents as a family instead of having them piled on each of our beds—then he really should have the _whole _experience."

She turned her face to press a kiss to his jaw. "If you counter the spells, the gifts might overflow the lounge. Wouldn't be much fun shaking your presents if you had to dig through mounds to find them."

"Mounds of presents." George sounded as though her was envisioning the sight—and enjoying it.

There were footsteps on the stairs. Molly walked into the room in a fluffy green dressing gown. "I _told _Arthur we'd never be allowed a wink of sleep past six, but did he listen?" She frowned at George. "Did you at least put on the kettle for tea, Mr. Jingle-Jangle-Jingle?"

"Sorry, Mum. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

Alicia climbed off George's lap. "I'll put on the kettle."

Molly stared at the diamond that caught fire in the light. She put a hand to her throat. "You're wearing a ring. Oh, my dears, I'm so happy for you." She rushed forward to engulf Alicia in a hug. Before George could rise, Molly leaned down and kissed his cheeks. "Now _this _is worth an early rising, you scamp." She pinched his good ear playfully. Taking a deep breath, she hollered, "ARTHUR, COME DOWNSTAIRS AT ONCE!"

"Have gnomes made off with the Christmas pudding? Is the tree on fire?" Arthur shuffled into the lounge sleepy-eyed but fully dressed.

"THEY'RE ENGAGED!"

Arthur's blue eyes crinkled in a smile. "Are you announcing it to the neighbourhood?" He clapped George on the shoulder. "Congratulations, son." He beamed at Alicia. "Welcome to the family."

There arose such a clatter from the stairway; it was a surprise to see only two girls burst into the lounge. "Did I hear Mum shriek that you're engaged?" Ginny cried.

Alicia held out her hand. Ginny and Hermione slipped past Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to see it.

"It's beautiful," Hermione said.

"Did someone help George pick it out?" Ginny asked, grinning at her brother.

He jumped to his feet. "Just for that, I'll have to take back one of your presents."

Ginny wasn't as gullible as Alicia. "Ha!" She looked at Hermione. "Let's go tell Ron and Harry the news!"

Hermione hesitated to follow her friend. "But what if they're still in—all right," she said, hurrying to catch up.

Alicia accompanied Molly to the kitchen. An enormous china teapot stood on the counter next to the kettle and a tin of English Breakfast tea.

"Make a whole pot," Molly said. "I'll get out the milk and sugar."

A tea trolley rolled into the kitchen.

Molly called, "Thank you, dear!" She placed a couple of teacups on the upper tier before noticing a square of parchment. "How about a bit of food to tide us over to breakfast? Dad wants fruit cake with clotted cream, I'd as soon have gingerbread or apple cake, and I think Alicia's been craving Clementines," she read aloud, shaking her head. "A bit of food, is it?" She smiled at Alicia. "We've plenty of oranges. Wouldn't be Christmas without them."

The entire household was gathered in the lounge when they returned. After thanking everyone for the congratulations, Alicia cut a piece of all three cakes and added dollops of cream before handing the plate to George.

"I want a plate like that with bigger slices," Ron said to Hermione. "I'm hungry."

Hermione gave him a level look. "While you're making yours, would you please cut a square of gingerbread for me?"

"Oh. Okay. D'you want cream?"

"No thank you."

Harry asked Ginny, "Can I get you anything?"

"A cup of tea, if you like."

"I like."

Beside Alicia, Fleur laughed softly. "Zis family is vairy amusing. Zey make me not so homesick."

"I didn't think—" Alicia said. "I'm sorry."

"_Non_, I 'ave Bill—my friends. I am happy." Fleur held up a bar of chocolate with _Bonnat _on the wrapper. "Zis helps too."

"I wonder what that would taste like if you ate it with a Clementine?"

"We shall see."

A few minutes later, Alicia and Fleur were sitting on the sofa, trading pieces of oranges and chocolate. Alicia closed her eyes. "Mmm, this is sooo good."

"_Le bon Merlin." _Fleur sighed. "_C'est incroyable."_

Next to Fleur, Bill chuckled. "I'll be sure to stock up the next time I go to the market."

On the other side of Alicia, George said, "I think I'm jealous."

Alicia turned head to smile into his eyes. "Nothing compares to you."

When it came time to open presents, Percy's stack looked rather forlorn. Alicia whispered that to George, and couldn't decide whether to giggle or scold him for promptly nudging the packages under the tree with his foot.

Charlie gave everyone dragon hide gloves in assorted colours. George's were made of black Hungarian Horntail. He thanked his brother and winked at Alicia, who got a matching pair.

Ginny reacted enthusiastically to her present from George and Alicia. "It's gorgeous! I love it!" She stood to hold up the strapless, full-skirted dress. The hem ended above her knees. "I'll go try it on right now!"

"It's red," Ron said, in a slow, you-can't-wear-red tone of voice.

"Tomato red," Alicia said to Ginny. "It sets off your hair beautifully."

Ginny's eyes went to Harry. He nodded. "It does. You should wear the dress to dinner."

"The bow in the front doesn't untie," George said meaningfully.

Alicia wondered if she was the only one who noticed that he looked at Harry while speaking to his sister.

Ginny's eye roll answered the question. "Yes, Daddy," she said pertly, sashaying from the room.

Bill gave a rumbling laugh at the look on his brother's face. "Get used to it," he said with a wolfish smile. "Because soon you'll be hearing it for the rest of your life."

George's lips twitched. "Been waiting to throw that back in my face, haven't you?"

"Since that day in your office, but I never imagined I'd get the chance so soon."

"Neither did I." George reached for Alicia's hand. "I don't regret it, though."

The tug on her heartstrings pulled Alicia toward George. She was a breath away from kissing him when Molly announced that breakfast was ready.

Fleur's face lit up at the sight of poached eggs, sausages and bacon, but the smell was enough to make Alicia back out of the room.

"My stomach's not up for food," she said to George. "Besides, I'd like to visit my mum this morning and tell her about our engagement."

"I'll come with you," he said.

"No. Be with your family. I won't be long." When he looked doubtful, she said, "Mum will want a mother-daughter talk."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

Alicia wasn't feeling quite so sure of herself when she stepped out of her mother's Floo.

Her mother, sitting in a chair in a fleecy robe, looking through a photo album, sensed it immediately. "Merry Christmas, darling! Is everything all right?"

Alicia held out her hand so her mum could see the ring. "George asked me to marry him," she said. "I said yes."

-

George sat between Bill and Charlie, taking a spoonful of every dish that passed his way and trying to pretend he wasn't worried. Mrs. Spinnet may have asked him to call her Anne, but she didn't approve of him as husband material—not by a long shot. How would she react when Alicia told her the news? Alicia loved her mother. They had grown extremely close since Mr. Spinnet's death during the war. If Anne started harping on his faults, would Alicia begin doubting her decision?

_What if the earth stopped spinning? 'Bout as likely, brother._

"Fred" was ignored.

George was jarred out of his brooding when Fleur gasped. "Maman! Papa! Gabrielle!" She almost fell over herself to leave the table and hurry toward the trio who had entered the kitchen. The four hugged and held a joyous conversation in French.

George looked down the table at his mother. She gave him a watery smile and dabbed her eyes with a serviette.

Fleur broke away from her sister's hug to cross over to her mother-in-law, praising her kindness and kissing her cheeks.

"Christmas is a time for family," Molly said. "We should be together."

"Next year, you must all visit us in France!" cried Apolline Delacour.

George noted that his mother's smile was weak, although his father and Monsieur Delacour looked agreeable.

Madame Delacour conjured _café décafféiné _in case Fleur wanted a cup, serving Gabrielle _chocolat chaud, _creamy hot chocolate.

By the time the group moved into the lounge, Mr. and Mrs. Granger had arrived by Squire Cab. Hermione's parents looked pale and queasy, but insisted that the wizard equivalent of a Muggle taxi was astoundingly speedy, and rather exhilarating, once they stopped fearing imminent death.

George stared at the Floo, willing Alicia to appear.

Percy arrived instead.

"Isn't Penelope with you?" Molly asked.

"She'll drop in later," Percy answered. "She has to visit her grandmother first." He weaved his way through the throng to reach George. "She wants to work things out, but says it will take time."

George shrugged.

Percy said in a low voice, "How much time do you think it will take?"

_Is he on a schedule?_

"As long as it takes," George said sharply.

"Yes, you're right." Percy glanced around and said, "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

"I got engaged."

Percy broke into a smile. "Congratulations!"

George heard a whooshing sound and strode to the fireplace. "Thanks," he tossed over his shoulder, his attention centred on Alicia.

She smiled at him, but he could tell it was an effort. He said, "How'd it go?"

"She was—surprised—but wants to help plan the wedding and wishes us happiness."

_I'd believe Father Christmas filled your stocking before that load of twaddle. _

It didn't matter to George whether Anne wished them well. What mattered to him was that his fiancée wanted him to believe it. He said, "Is she still joining us for Christmas dinner?"

Alicia's lips trembled before she pasted on another smile. "No. She's not—feeling well—but hopes we'll all get together soon."

_Sure, she does._

George drew Alicia into his arms, holding her close for a minute, cooling his temper, before saying, "Are you feeling tired? Why don't we go upstairs and take a nap until dinner?"

"That would be nice."

Upstairs, he waited until her eyes closed to use a nonverbal Sleeping Charm. Immediately, Alicia's breathing became deep and even. "Sweet dreams," he whispered, kissing her brow.

Downstairs, Percy intercepted George on his way to the Floo. "Where are you going?" he asked.

George bared his teeth in a smile. "To spread some more Christmas cheer."

-

* * *

A/N: Christmas is always eventful, isn't it? Morgan Llywelyn wrote the Celtic wedding vows I took George's pledge from. It's my favourite part—some of the rest lifted my eyebrows, lol. I deliberately left the size and shape of the diamond up to imagination. Everyone has different opinions about the perfect size, shape—even colour—of diamond, so this way, one ring fits all. The people whose reviews are always the perfect size and shape are...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, btyrhrtout, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, cream tea anyone, Creative Touch, CullenNHaleMenUJustCantGetEnuf, DaphneD, DigiNinMon, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, Herb3-HeatherRoseBlack, hopecraycat, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, Jo Claire, Kates Master, KoolAidNightmare, lady clark of books, ladyofthecelticland, LostHeart4, maraudernumba5, MBP, MidnightBlack07, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, potteronpotluvhim, RahNee, Robin Hawkes, sam, SayItLouder, Slipknot-3113, sinful delight, Sivaroobini Lupin-Black, Snuffles7, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, The Allknowing Tonks, tidbit2008, tiffyrose, WEASLEYLOVER, and xoxphoenix. **


	26. In the Cards

He felt like one of the anti-hero wizards he and Fred used to read about on the sly over summer holidays. Rebel Aurors who wore long dragon hide coats and spoke great lines like _you didn't really think you'd get away with it—did you, hag? _George wasn't reckless enough to call Anne a hag, but he did intend to confront her and see justice done. One way or another, she was coming to Christmas dinner.

To show he was serious, George didn't stop to remove the Floo powder from his new coat after reaching his destination. He strode into the Spinnets' lounge, jaw set with resolve.

His step faltered. Anne wasn't there.

Absently, he dusted off the shoulders of his coat, debating whether to call out or wait for her to return. On the coffee table, a photo album lay open beside a teacup and saucer. A scene from _Auror Confidential _came to mind. He walked over and placed his hand over the cup. Just like in the novel, warm vapours heated his palm. She had recently poured the tea.

George decided to wait.

He sat on the sofa and leaned forward to see what Anne had been looking at. It wasn't what he'd expected, pictures of the Spinnets' last Christmas together as a family. The album held photographs of Alicia—baby photographs.

_She was almost as adorable as we were, _said a ghostly voice_. Your kid could do a lot worse than look like mummy_. "Fred" sniggered. _Poor tyke could take after Auntie Muriel._

George grimaced. Auntie Muriel had facial hair he and Fred bitterly envied when they were still unable to grow their own.

He could almost hear a snort. _Who are you kidding? We were never able to grow a moustache like hers! _

George ran a finger over his upper lip. Alicia liked him smooth-shaven.

_What about smooth-chested?_

A brief smile crossed his face. Yeah, she liked that too—especially when massage oil was involved.

He turned the pages, stopping to take a closer look at a picture of a chubby, laughing toddler. Alicia, with a red bow perched atop short, dark curls, took wobbly steps toward the photographer. Behind her, a woman sitting on the rug watched with a proud, loving smile on her face. It was Anne.

"What are you doing here?"

George jerked upright. The witch he'd planned to confront stood just inside the doorway. She looked at him warily. He remembered her expression in the photograph and decided to be polite. "That's what I came to ask you," he said.

Anne crossed her arms. "I live here."

_You set yourself up for that one. _

George rose to his feet. "Alicia said you were ill. You don't look sick to me."

"I'm heartsick."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

_That's right. Get her talking. _

Anne's lips tightened. "Did you expect congratulations? I can't help but be disappointed that Alicia's taking this step so hastily—emotionally."

She didn't give her daughter much credit. George kept his tone deliberately calm. "If you think Alicia said yes without asking why I want to marry her, you're wrong."

"So she said. Alicia refused to share those reasons, however."

_And didn't that ram a broomstick up her backside?_

Anne's bruised feelings weren't the point. "She wanted you to trust her judgement."

"On any other matter, I would, but when it comes to you—" Anne paused, and then said, "I believe her judgment is impaired."

"I don't care what you believe," George said. "I care about what you do when it affects Alicia. You hurt her—and you're going to make it right."

"I'm not—"

"You're going to come to Christmas dinner, and you're going to tell Alicia that if she has faith in me, you'll have faith in her, and trust everything will work out for the best."

"Why—"

"Where's your wedding album?" There was a stack on the floor beside the sofa. He picked out the one covered in white lace. "Here's why she has faith in me. I made a promise." He opened the album and thrust it Anne, jabbing his finger at a line. "That promise."

She stared down at the words for minutes that seemed to stretch out endlessly. When she looked up, Anne said, "Do you mean it?"

He remembered Alicia asking the same question and answered with as much conviction, "Yes."

Anne's posture relaxed. "All right. I'll hurry and get ready."

George turned to leave.

"Tell me," Anne said. "Does Alicia know you came here?"

"No. She's taking a nap."

"Will you tell her?"

"Not unless you want me to."

Anne shook her head. "It would only cause more conflict."

_For you and her both!_

George said, "I'll look for you at noon, then."

He was about to drop the Floo powder when Anne said, "If your family asks where you've been, what will you tell them?"

"The truth," George said. "I was spreading Christmas cheer."

He was still grinning over the startled expression on Anne's face when he exited the Floo at the flat. He whistled "Jingle Bells" on the way downstairs to the storeroom.

Caper answered the door wearing a scarlet tea towel and matching scarf. His smile stretched from ear to ear. "Mister George! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Caper. Did you like the tree-in-a-box?"

"Very much. It is most ingenious." The house-elf rubbed a small scratch on his cheek. "Caper learned not to lean over the box while opening."

"Ah, hell. I'm sorry."

"Do not be. Elves is fast healers." Caper drew a line down his cheek with a fingertip. "Was much bigger, before."

George was glad he had decided to wait to put the tree on the market. He could imagine the _Quibbler_ headline. _Killer Christmas Tree Pokes Kid's Eye Out! _"Just what you wanted, a present hazardous to your health," he said wryly. "I'll fix the spring spell later. Right now, we need to go."

Caper twisted the ends of his scarf between his fingers. "Mister has given Caper a tree and a stocking. To bring Caper to dinner with family is—"

"Alicia put together the stocking, and I don't just want you to come to dinner." George looked away, as if embarrassed to admit, "I need you to."

"Need?"

"Yeah." George hunched a shoulder. "My folks aren't rich. Dad has to enlarge the kitchen to fit everyone at the holidays, and, well, those aren't the kind of spells he's best at. With the place as rickety as it is..."

"Caper will come to enlarge the kitchen."

"And stay to dinner?" George exhaled heavily. "Mum always insists on conjuring the whole meal. Sometimes, there are barely any leftovers."

_Because there's always a crowd and everyone stuffs themselves! _

"Caper will stay to make sure the food remains plentiful."

_And they call Slytherins cunning._

George smiled. "Thanks, mate."

The tips of pointed ears turned pink. "You is welcome. Is you wishing me to transport us?"

"Can you Apparate that far?"

Round green eyes twinkled as Caper put his hand on George's arm.

They were transported to the back step of the Burrow.

"I guess you can," George said, shivering from the cold.

Caper placed his hands on the outside wall. "How many is you needing to seat?"

George began counting. "Twenty."

The elf's brow wrinkled in deep concentration. Within seconds, the house expanded. A muffled shriek was heard.

The back door flew open. Molly stood brandishing a ladle. "What's going on out here?"

Caper waved his fingers. The gravy she'd spilled down her apron vanished. She lowered her arm. "Oh. That was you, was it? Lovely work. I've never had extra counter space before. Arthur only enlarged the middle to expand the table, when Merlin knows a woman needs all the counter space she can get at the holidays." Molly backed into the kitchen. "Would you care for a cup of eggnog, Caper?"

The elf said, "No, thank you, madam. I is here to help."

"Help? No, no, I couldn't allow—" Molly's eyes cut to the tableware laid out in readiness. "Unless you'd like to, erm, double check that all the silver is polished."

Caper bowed. "It would be my pleasure."

Ginny, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Gabrielle tromped into the kitchen. George saw the way Hermione was eyeing Caper and spoke quickly to avoid a well-meant inquisition. "Going out to play in the snow Dad conjured?"

"Off to test these," Ginny said, holding up her bronze dragon hide gloves. She plucked cloaks from pegs and handed them out.

"Percy was vairy kind to offer me zese," Gabrielle said, displaying bright green gloves.

_He probably hopes she'll lose them so he's never forced to wear something so colourful._

"Have fun, dears," Molly said.

George said, "Make sure it's good, clean fun. No anatomically correct snowmen—or snow women."

While Ron blushed, Ginny smiled nostalgically. "Fred got us into so much trouble that Christmas."

"Well deserved," Molly said firmly. She sniffed. "Mind the time. Dinner will be ready soon."

George said, "I'll go wake Alicia."

In the lounge, the younger adults were building a house of cards on a side table while the older set swapped tales of Christmas pasts. "Are you using Exploding Snap cards?" George asked, stopping a moment to watch their progress.

Fleur tossed her head. "But of course! Ze danger is what adds ze spice!"

"I voted for regular cards," Percy said. He shrugged good-naturedly. "I was out-voted."

_Story of his life._

"A Galleon to whoever blows up the house," George said, heading to the stairs.

Bill, Charlie, and Fleur cheered.

Up in his room, Alicia lay on her side, breathing deeply. George took off his coat and hung it in the wardrobe before lying down. Mischievously, he pulled her to lie on top of him before rescinding the charm.

"George?" she said softly.

He kept his eyes closed.

Her lips brushed his in a kiss.

-

He kissed her back, but she asked anyway. "Are you awake?"

George opened his eyes. "I was never asleep."

_Oh gods, _she thought. _What has he been up to? If he didn't believe my story about Mum and went to talk to her…. _Alicia had to ask, "Did you—go anywhere—during my nap?"

His hands were caressing her back. Was he trying to distract her? It was working.

"I went to get Caper. I was afraid he wouldn't show otherwise. He's helping Mum in the kitchen."

"We should help, too."

George grabbed her arse. "I can't. I'm pinned to the bed."

Alicia gave him kiss for being cute and rolled to the side.

He pinched her before letting go.

It didn't hurt, but Alicia said, "Ouch!" and rubbed as though it had. Her ploy worked. George got off the bed.

"I was only playing," he said, "I—" His eyes suddenly narrowed. "I think I'd better take a look at the injury."

"No!" She backed away.

"Yes. You might need bruise remover. Unzip."

His tiny smirk was so wickedly appealing; she almost did it to see his reaction. Not quite ready to end their little game, Alicia reached behind her for the door handle. She turned the knob and pulled, saying, "I'm not unzipping anything! It's time for dinner!" She back-pedalled into the corridor, expecting him to follow—and almost fell over Percy.

"I beg your pardon!" He steadied her. "I came up to tell you—your mother's arrived."

Alicia looked at George.

"She must be feeling better," he said. "That's good."

He was trying to act innocent—a dead giveaway that George was guilty of interfering. On another day, she might not have appreciated his actions, but on this day she closed the space between them, hugging him fiercely. "You're a good man."

"Remember that the next time I pinch your arse."

"I will, and maybe I'll pinch yours first."

"Promise?"

Alicia walked downstairs with a smile that faltered when she saw her mother waiting at the bottom of the steps. "Hullo, Mum."

"I came to apologise," Anne said softly.

"Thank you." Tears filled Alicia's eyes. "I'm so happy you're here. Dad wouldn't want us to spend Christmas apart."

"He'd also want me to have faith in you—and your choices." Her mum reached out to stroke her cheek. "I haven't done that or been there for you like I should…but I will."

They were hugging and crying together when Alicia heard footsteps. "If I pay you a Galleon, one of your eyebrows better be singed off," George said loudly. "I want value for my money."

"I did burn a finger when the cards exploded."

"Is there a blister?"

"No. Fleur performed a Healing Charm."

Alicia glanced up to see the brothers descending the stairs.

George handed Percy a Galleon. "Next time show me the blister before you get it healed or I won't pay more than a Sickle." He paused on the stair when he saw her watching. "Everything all right?" he asked.

She didn't know if it was pregnancy hormones or love, but Alicia almost started crying from happiness. "Everything's wonderful."

The same could be said about Christmas Dinner, and was, by Fleur, who amused Alicia by directing Bill to pile spoonfuls of numerous side dishes onto her plate along with slices of roast turkey and roast prime rib.

_"__Je voudrais de _Brussells sprouts wiz ze shallots, and I would like some potatoes, and ze parsnips, and _un _Yorkshire pudding—" Fleur stopped pointing at the dishes that were being passed around to tap her finger in the direction of the savoury puddings, raising her voice to ask, "What herbs did you use, Molly?"

"Mum's not the only one who doesn't need a Sonorous Charm," Bill said dryly.

Fleur wrinkled her nose at him.

Molly called back, "Fresh parsley, and a bit of chives and thyme."

"And sage," Madame Delacour pronounced, after taking a bite. _"Délicieux!"_

"Rosemary, too," Gabrielle said, looking down the table. "For remembrance." She blushed prettily.

It didn't take keen powers of observation to be aware of the girl's admiration for Harry, but he was staring into Ginny's eyes and totally oblivious.

"He'd better keep it that way if he knows what's good for him," George said in an undertone. "Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex will give you nightmares."

"How do you know?"

He gave her a puppy-dog look.

She tried not to laugh. "Aw, poor baby."

After dinner, when the dishes were cleared away, Molly and Caper set out marzipan-covered fruitcake, pear trifle, and Christmas pudding with custard sauce to be devoured whenever stomachs had room to spare. The parents of the group ambled into the lounge while the younger members went down to the basement to play skittles.

"I 'ave no energy for rolling wooden "cheese" wheels to knock down pins," Fleur said.

George conjured a deck of cards. "We could stay in the kitchen and play games."

Charlie said, "What kind of games?"

"Oh Hell," George said. He told Fleur, "You start with one card, spades are trump, and if you don't get the exact number of tricks you bid—"

Percy's eyebrows rose. "Yelling 'Oh Hell' on Christmas Day is hardly appropriate."

"Fine. We'll yell 'Oh Shit'," George fired back.

"'Ow about 'Oh Hades'?" Fleur said. "Zat is not harsh or vulgar."

Percy's expression said he disagreed.

Alicia offered a suggestion of her own. "We could play Spoons."

"What's that? A kid's game?" Charlie asked.

"I learned it at a party."

George frowned. "What party?"

"It was a couple of years ago," Alicia said, "after the exhibition match between the Stonewall Stormers and Puddlemere United. A Chaser for the Stormers decided to further international relations with Spoons."

"Which player?" George asked.

"Danielle Liemieux."

Bill said, "How do you play?"

Alicia said, "The object is to get four of a kind and take a spoon. After that, everyone grabs for what's left, and whoever doesn't get a spoon is out."

George could lift an eyebrow much more effectively than Percy could. "Is this a drinking game?" he said.

"Not always," Alicia turned to Caper. "We need six spoons. One less spoon than players."

"Everybody plays," George said when Caper started to shake his head.

Spoons appeared on the table. Alicia leaned over to arrange them with the handles pointing out. "You deal the first round," she said to George. "Everyone gets four cards, and then the rest are put in front of you. You'll draw a card from the pile, and then pass one to your right—" She explained the game and how if there was a fight for the spoon, the person who stood up with the spoon in their hand won it.

"What if I grab a spoon wizout anyone 'aving four of a kind?" Fleur said.

"You lose the round."

Fleur slanted a flirty glance at Bill. "And if I lure someone into grabbing?"

"They're out."

"So this is a game of bluffing," Percy said.

Alicia looked at George. "And matching."

He began dealing cards. "Let's play."

The first card George passed her was the five of hearts. In Cartomancy, the card meant jealousy, or indecision. Alicia tried not to think the worst while passing Caper a two of hearts, signalling friendship.

The next card George slid her way was a five of spades: anxiety and setbacks. "Did you go to the party with Angelina?" he asked.

"No. Oliver invited me." Alicia checked to make sure no one had snuck a spoon and passed a ten of spades, for worry.

"Oliver Wood?" Charlie said. "I read he finally made it off the reserve team."

"What position does 'e play?" Fleur asked.

"He's a Keeper," George answered, passing a five of diamonds.

"When it comes to Quidditch," Alicia said absently, puzzling over the card. What did success in business have to do with anything? She gave Caper a Jack of clubs because he was a reliable friend.

The elf discarded and leaned forward, stretching out his hand. Everyone lunged for a spoon—except Caper. He had faked his grab.

"Oh Hell!" George started laughing.

"I thought we weren't playing that game," Percy said with a little smile.

Fleur's giggles brought a lopsided grin to Bill's face. "Oh Hades," he said, tossing his spoon onto the table.

Arthur wandered into the kitchen. "Sounds like you're having fun." He cut a piece of fruitcake. "What are the spoons for?"

While the others explained the game, George showed Alicia his cards. "I kept drawing fives. I was going to pass you the five of clubs next."

"Do you know what that card means in Divination?" she whispered.

"Your fiancé will cheat at cards for you?"

"Help from a friend or spouse."

"Coincidence."

It didn't matter either way. George hadn't been grilling her about Oliver. He had only been trying to help her win! Alicia cast a silent charm, but didn't wait for the ball of mistletoe to float into the room to cradle George's face in her hands and bring his lips down for a kiss.

-

* * *

A/N: George got his point across, even if he didn't do it in the way he intended. As for Canadian Danielle Lemieux, she may or may not have a hockey playing Muggle relative named Mario. I chose the name in honour of **Slipknot-3113, **whose willingness to fight for a spoon made me want to use Spoons in the story. If any readers are wondering why there was no cliffie, it's because it's fun to do the unexpected...which is foreshadowing, lol. The people who reviews last chapter hopefully foreshadow their reviews this one :D, are... **40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, Alone All Along, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, Bandon Banshee, Bardlover, Blue Leah, btyrhrtout, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, chocofrolicangel, cream tea anyone, Creative Touch, DaphneD, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, FlameintheFlood, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, ginnylovesharry07, GraceRichie, harryplover603, Herb3, hermioneron, hondagirl, HPFanFictionFan, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Kates Master, lady clark of books, ladyofthecelticland, Lieu Of Flowers, LostHeart4, maraudernumba5, MBP, Meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, SayItLouder, Slipknot-3113, sinful delight, siriuslycoco, Snuffles7, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, tidbit2008, tiffyrose, WeaslysForEvER, and xoxphoenix. **

**Note **to readers of my R/T story...I'm working on it!


	27. Interlude

Note before the usual note. :D Thanks to **Bardlover **for giving feedback about the title. It has a double meaning. It's an interlude in the story and also a hint that the chapter's shorter than normal. I thought about putting it with the next chapter, but it wouldn't go. It needed to be set apart. As for why it's shorter, although I usually put George and Alicia first, I had a Remus/Tonks chapter that was a week overdue. I hope readers will forgive me for dancing with werewolves instead of frolicking longer in...oops, that would be telling. ; )

* * *

- 

Alicia's kisses put George in a good mood that lasted throughout the afternoon. He found himself enjoying games and family togetherness he would have avoided a few months previously. When the household gathered for charades, Penelope arrived in time to save the day for their team. She was the only one who figured out Percy's quote was "constant vigilance." Everyone else thought his facial contortions had something to do with U-No-Poo.

Penelope kissed her disgruntled boyfriend on the cheek. "You looked just like Mad-Eye."

"Thank you," Percy said.

George couldn't resist. "Like Mad-Eye on U-No-Poo."

While others laughed, his mum narrowed her eyes in suspicion. George could read her silent question. _Did you slip that poor man your horrid product?_

He shook his head slightly.

George could almost hear Fred chortle. _No, Mum, it was me._

Madame Delacour diverted everyone's attention by saying, "We are looking forward to ze wedding. 'As a date been set?"

George and Alicia exchanged startled glances. They hadn't discussed that yet!

"_Accio_ family calendar!" Molly snatched the enormous wall calendar that swooped in from the kitchen. "What month are you looking at, dears?"

"Get married Easter Holiday," Ginny said, "so I can be in the wedding." She smiled sheepishly at Alicia. "If you want me to be in your wedding."

"Of course I do," Alicia said warmly. "April, though, seems a little—"

"Long to wait," George said. "Fleur would be due any day, and our baby's not going to stay small either."

Mrs. Spinnet nodded her head. "People thought I was nine months pregnant from seven months on."

George saw Alicia look down at her middle with wide eyes and tried to be supportive. "I'm sure you'll look beautiful big."

Alicia didn't seem cheered.

On the sofa next to Bill, Fleur said, "An empire waistline is vairy slimming. Ze material flows_." _

"I want the skirt flowing down, not out," Alicia said, biting her lip.

Ginny smiled encouragingly. "I'm sure McGonagall will allow us to attend the wedding whatever day you choose."

From her position on the floor next to Ron, Hermione said, "Especially if you set the date on a Hogsmeade Weekend." She turned to Molly. "Do you have all the Hogsmeade Weekends marked on your calendar?"

"No."

Hermione said regretfully, "I didn't bring my day planner, and Mum took her pocket calendar when they left."

If Caper hadn't left to visit his friends at the Sleazy Kneazle, George could've have asked him to pop over to the Granger house and request a calendar. He would have been there and back again in minutes.

"I've got the planner you gave me before term started," Ron said. A few seconds later, a leather-bound notebook zoomed through the air to land in his hands.

He gave it to Hermione, blushing when she said, "I see assignments written down. Exam dates. You've actually _used _this—consistently!"

"You were right about organisation." Ron stared into his girlfriend's eyes. "You're right about a lot of things."

Hermione's gaze became melting. "Oh, Ron!"

_Oh, Brother! If they start snogging, hit them with an ice water charm._

"Oh, thank you, dear." Molly leaned down from her chair to pluck the notebook from Hermione's loose grip. "I'll jot down the dates, shall I?" She read them aloud as she flipped the pages to mark the calendar.

"What do you think?" George asked Alicia.

She glanced at her mother. "Mum goes to trade shows in February. I'm needed at the shop."

"March, then?"

"Unless you'd rather wait until after the baby."

George didn't have to see his mother's face to imagine her expression. "I don't want to wait," he said. He started to smile. "I don't want to share your attention on our honeymoon."

Alicia's cheeks tinted with pink. She'd caught his eyes flickering over her chest and knew what he meant by _attention_.

"Too bad Easter isn't in March this year," Ginny said. "The four of us could help out in the shops and save you the trouble of hiring help."

"Yeah," Ron said. "It could be our wedding present."

"_One _of our gifts," Hermione said meaningfully.

Ronnikins was impressively good at faking innocence. "That's what I meant."

George frowned. He hadn't considered the staffing issue. Interviewing was tedious, and putting effort into training temporary help seemed a waste of time.

"We don't have to go on a week-long honeymoon," Alicia said, rubbing his arm.

George wondered if she was trying to convince him that she didn't mind, or if the soothing motion was an unconscious gesture. He put his hand over hers. "It isn't the money. It's finding help that won't drive Caper to quit."

_Or drive you mental trying to get into their heads that being a witch or wizard doesn't give them authority over a house-elf!_

Preconceptions were hard to fight. Years at Hogwarts conditioned people into thinking elves were at their disposal. Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew better, and had no problem remembering they were the underlings, not Caper. It was too bad he couldn't find a way to convince McGonagall to give them a week's holiday to mind the shop.

A ghostly chuckle echoed in his mind. _They're on holiday now..._

Yes, they were. George raised Alicia's hand to his lips. "I have a brilliant idea."

Her eyes danced. "That's a given. What is it?"

Ignoring the various snorts and muffled laughter of siblings who would receive far less expensive gifts the following Christmas, George said, "If we're only going to take a couple of days off after the wedding, let's go on our real honeymoon now—tonight."

"Tonight? You can't have the honeymoon before you're married!" Molly cried. "What about wedding plans? Sending out invitations?"

"Couldn't you and Mrs. Weasley make up a guest list, Mum?" Alicia said. "George and I could pick out invitations after we get back and have them spell-printed then."

"I suppose," Mrs. Spinnet said hesitantly. She looked at Ginny. "If you're available, I could use your help during our Boxing Day sale tomorrow."

Ginny nodded eagerly. "Of course!" She turned to Harry, "And then I'm all yours."

Harry blinked as if dazzled by the thought. "Great."

George decided to ask Caper to ensure those two never spent more than a few minutes alone "organising" the storeroom. He glanced at Ron, saw the way he and Hermione were eyeing each other, and added his office to the list of places teenagers with raging hormones were not allowed to spend unsupervised time.

"Where will we go?" Alicia asked.

"Wales."

Fleur's melodic laughter cut off abruptly when Bill said, "He isn't joking."

"_Non?_"

Despite his hurt pride, all the incredulous faces staring at him amused George. He knew what everyone was thinking. Wales wasn't at its most scenic this time of year. It was cold and rainy, with occasional snow.

"It sounds lovely," Alicia said. "Should we go home and pack?"

"The sooner the better." George stood. "I'll let Caper know to expect his assistants at nine sharp."

"But...but...where will you make reservations?" Molly asked.

George winked at Alicia. "I know a bloke whose mum runs a hotel."

-

Two hours later, Blaise Zabini escorted them to a hotel room. Instead of his usual black attire, he wore a dark red jumper with charcoal grey trousers. When Alicia complimented him on looking very Christmas-y, Blaise said, "Angelina gifted me with clothing. She said it is not enough to be a man of colour. I should include it in my wardrobe." He handed George a gold key. "The honeymoon suite was booked, but you should find this one sufficient for the night."

Alicia saw George eyeing the four-poster bed visible through a doorway. "It's more than I expected," he said. "Don't go to any trouble on our account."

"Yes, it's perfect. Thank you," Alicia said.

Blaise smiled faintly. "It was no trouble to arrange for something more fitting tomorrow—on Zanzibar."

Alicia drew in a surprised breath.

George said, "How?"

"We had already made arrangements with the Portkey Office to travel when Angelina returns from her parents' home," Blaise said. "You, as our guests, will merely precede us to the hotel by a few days."

There was a note of deep satisfaction in his voice. Curious, Alicia asked, "Does Angelina know we'll be there?"

Blaise shook his head. "It will be my surprise."

"That's sweet of you." Without thinking, Alicia treated Blaise the way she would any friend. She hugged him. Immediately, she stepped back. Pregnancy hormones were impairing her judgment. No Slytherin wanted to be treated like a Hufflepuff! "No offence," Alicia said in a small voice.

"None taken. Good night."

George held out his hand. "How can I repay you?"

Blaise's smile managed to be boyish and adult at the same time. "Angelina's pleasure will be my reward."

"I'm going to pretend he didn't say that," George said, the moment Blaise left.

Alicia slid her arms around his waist. "I'm sure it didn't have a double meaning."

George watched her through hooded eyes. "If I had been talking about you, it would have."

She pressed closer. "Oh, really?" Alicia gave a tiny shriek when George suddenly bent and swept her into his arms. "I hope you cast a feather-light charm," she said as he carried her toward the bedroom. "I've gained a bit of weight."

He set her down upon the bed. "In all the right places."

Alicia drew his head down to hers, thinking if she wasn't madly in love with George already, she would be falling like a rock troll.

The next morning, after breakfast in bed, Alicia delved into the capacious bag that magically held all their clothing and toiletries. "We don't have anything suited to a tropical climate," she said.

"We'll buy gear there," George said. "Posh resorts always have boutiques, and I'm sure there are plenty of shops on the island." He grinned. "I can't wait to see you in a string bikini."

"I'm not going to wear—" Alicia halted, falling under the sway of puppy-dog eyes. "Unless we're on a private beach."

"I'll find one," George said roguishly.

When they were ready to leave, Alicia put her hand on the coconut Blaise had given to George and said, "Portkey travel is safe until the last month, but do you think the baby will be upset by all the jostling around?"

George put his free hand on her abdomen. "This kid's a Weasley. It will be an adventure."

Alicia had never liked the sensation of being yanked by the navel into a dizzying whirlwind of colour. Since George was with her, she was able to cling to him on their arrival, swaying on her feet instead of falling on her arse.

"Look at that view," George said.

They were standing on the veranda of an African roundhouse, facing a sea framed by white sands and coconut palms. The water was the colour of Teddy Lupin's hair: brilliant turquoise. Alicia felt a faint fluttering inside and looked down to see George's hand splayed across her middle. Tears of happiness sprang to her eyes. "It's beautiful."

-

* * *

A/N: Who thinks there will be a bikini waiting inside on the bed? You'd be right, and I'll be grateful to everyone who looks at the bright side of a late posting: two chapters in one week! The readers I'm grateful reviewed last chapter were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, Alone All Along, Bardlover, Blue Leah, btyrhrtout, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cazx, Creative Touch, crystalstars88, DaphneD, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, hermioneron, HPFanFictionFan, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, JasperisMYeverything, Jo Claire, Kates Master, Kool Aid Nightmare, lady clark of books, ladyofthecelticland, Legallyblonde79, Lieu Of Flowers, LostHeart4, MBP, Meeh-san, MidnightBlack07, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, sinful delight, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Snuffles7, sofia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, Tabbycat1220, tambrathegreat, Tara-Yo, tidbit2008, tiffyrose, WEASLEYLOVER, and xoxphoenix. **


	28. Reality Bites

They spent their honeymoon watching the sun dance on the water during the day while at night George and Alicia danced beneath the stars. Alicia coaxed George into exploring the bazaars of Stone Town; he talked her into a trek through the forest area to search for the Zanzibar leopard. After a local doctor assured them saltwater gillyweed would have no effect on the baby, they used it to explore the coral reefs surrounding the east coast of the island.

Alicia found it seductively easy to forget about schedules and responsibilities. Whether she walked beside George on the beach or kissed him beneath azure waters, being with him was all that mattered.

Once Blaise and Angelina arrived, the couples spent part of every day together. The men didn't openly enjoy each other's company, but they got along. Alicia was amused to observe that the two had a similar sly wit. When she remarked on it one night, George told her she'd had too much sun. "Slytherins are sly," he said, "but true wit comes from Gryffindor." He then removed her clothing to cool her fevered brain.

Two nights before they were scheduled to leave, Angelina and Alicia made plans to go shopping. Following a prompting glance from Angelina, Blaise invited George to go fishing.

George agreed without hesitation, but the next morning he seemed less than thrilled. "I could've slept in," he muttered, dragging on a loose cotton shirt over knee-length swim trunks. "Why am I doing this? I eat fish. I don't catch them—and I sure don't clean them."

"You look so handsome in white," Alicia said sleepily. "It sets off your gorgeous hair."

George grinned, distracted. "What about my gorgeous tan? With no freckles, I might add."

His boyish vanity was adorable. "We'll send Charlie a photograph and make him jealous."

A frown creased his brow. "Not one of us at the beach. I don't want him drooling over the way you look in a bikini."

She giggled. "First Percy, now Charlie. Why would you think either of them would fancy a pregnant woman?"

"Because I fancy you, and Charlie did say Fleur looked like a fertility goddess." George's lips twitched. "That could be the real reason he's living in the wilds of Romania. Hiding his guilty secret."

She sat up. "He's a kinky Dragon Keeper?"

George's eyes gleamed with mischief. "That's what Fred and I said when we first went to pubs and the girls we tried to chat up eyed our older brother." He laughed. "Charlie couldn't figure out why women kept telling him they'd play dominatrix anytime he liked."

It wasn't hard for Alicia to imagine the chagrin seventeen-year-old boys felt when their attempted sabotage backfired. She gave him a sultry look. "I'll play dominatrix anytime _you _like."

A different kind of gleam brightened his eyes. "What if I want to dominate?"

"Tie me to the bedposts."

George groaned. "Fishing. Why am I going fishing?"

Alicia slid out of the bed to hug him. "So I can shop for scarves."

He pulled her closer. "Look for a feather, too."

Her pulse raced. "Any particular kind?"

"I don't know. I've never done this stuff before." His hands glided over her back. "One that feels good against your skin."

Alicia jumped to hear a knock at the door.

"Zabini's too bloody punctual," George growled. He gave her a firm kiss and strode away, leaving her to fall onto the bed and hug his pillow.

Unable to drift back asleep, she dressed for the day. The Zanzibari were modest people, so she chose a sleeveless blouse that buttoned up and a knee-length skirt. A few minutes later, there was a rap on the door. Alicia wasn't startled. She had half-expected Angelina to arrive the minute Blaise and George left. "Come on in!" she called.

"You come out!"

Alicia quickly slipped on a pair of comfortable flats.

She found Angelina waiting on one of the Vespa motor scooters Blaise's family enchanted for personal use. Her friend wore loose trousers and a colourful scarf tied to cover the skin exposed by her v-neck top. "We could Floo, but I thought you'd like to take the scenic route."

"Yes, I would!" Alicia was thankful that her skirt was full enough that it didn't ride up when she sat down. "Mr. Weasley would love one of these," she said, adjusting her sunglasses.

"Wouldn't we all!" Angelina spell-started the Vespa.

Cooling and Sunscreen Charms made the bright, hot day enjoyably tropic to Alicia. They sped along the sealed road leading from the resort on the north east coast of the island to the capital Stone Town to the west. The interior of the island was green and lush, the air smelling of cloves with a hint of the ocean.

They travelled to the city centre, making use of the valet services at a hotel owned by Mrs. Zabini's cousin. "Parking spots are like gold, so you'd need a Niffler to find one," Angelina said, as they made their way down a narrow alley.

After a few hours of shopping their way through winding streets, they returned to the hotel to have lunch and compare finds. Alicia had purchased a dozen scarves.

"Souvenirs for mates back home? Good idea," Angelina said.

They had both bought _khangas, _rectangles of fabric local women used for headscarves and skirts. Angelina said, "They'll make beautiful tablecloths."

Alicia smoothed the vividly patterned cotton. "I'm going to use mine as a sarong."

"George will like that."

Alicia smiled, hoping he'd like the scarlet phoenix feather she'd found in the back of an antiques shop. It had glowed with warmth in the dim light and had a wonderful scent. The shopkeeper, thinking she wanted to use it for a quill, told her that when the phoenix grew old, it built a pyre of spices and twigs in which to be reborn from the ashes. His smile was as white as his robe when she paid almost full price after a short attempt to haggle.

Once they ordered grilled tiger prawns with an herb salad, Alicia showed the server her green and gold khanga. "Is this Swahili?" she asked, pointing to the writing printed at the bottom.

"_Ndio_. Yes. _LIYA NA TABIA YAKO USILAUMO WENZAKO_ means _do not blame others for problems you have created yourself._"

"What a cheerful saying," Angelina said when the server left. Her mouth pulled down at the corners. "I think it fits me more than you."

Alicia had wondered if her friend wanted a girls' day out for a reason besides shopping. She said, "Are you blaming someone for a problem?"

Angelina took a sip of bottled water. "It's Blaise."

"What's wrong?"

"I missed him," she said bluntly. "I spent every day of Christmas holiday thinking about him, wondering if he missed me, if he would've come home with me if I'd asked."

"He's your boyfriend," Alicia said. "It's only natural that you care—"

"Too much," Angelina said. "I want to be with Blaise all the time, and when we're apart I get lonely—angry."

"At him?"

"At myself."

Her friend stared across the galleried balcony, but Alicia didn't think she was looking out over the town. "Do you feel guilty?"

"Yes. It hasn't even been a year since the battle. I still cry over it."

_Over Fred... _

To hear her friend sound so miserable tugged at Alicia's heart. Sympathy wasn't what Angelina needed, though. "George cries too," she said, "but he told me that I've made his life better than he ever thought it could be. He doesn't ever want to lose what we have." When Angelina met her gaze, she asked, "Do you want to give up what you have with Blaise?"

"No."

They were sitting in silence when the server returned to their table. Angelina leaned down to pick up her khanga, asking, "Could you translate for me, please?"

The helpful woman bent to look at the writing on blue and cream fabric printed with turquoise flowers. "_MIMI NA WANGU WEWE NA WAKO CHUKI YA NINI. _In English, it means, _I have mine and you have yours. Why the fuss?"_

"Thank you," Angelina and Alicia said together.

The moment the server turned her back, Alicia dug into her carryall. She and Angelina traded khangas, giggling like schoolgirls.

-

George would have enjoyed the "honeymoon" even if they'd stayed in Wales, tromping through slush and rain to tour mouldy historic sites. Being with Alicia was all that mattered. That they spent their days in a tropical paradise instead made a good time even better.

By the morning of their departure, he was able to swallow Gryffindor pride to tell the Slytherin who had made the holiday possible how much he appreciated it. That Blaise wouldn't have gone to the effort if it hadn't been for Angelina didn't matter. George was grateful.

Blaise shook his hand, smiling faintly. "Don't mention it."

"Believe me; I won't if at all possible." He caught the "George!" look Alicia threw him and said, "A couple's honeymoon should be private."

_Guess this means you can't brag about beating Zabini in a scooter race, or being the only one to catch a fish._

No, he couldn't, and that snapper had almost been big enough to keep. George shrugged. The trade off was worth it.

The coconut Portkey transported them directly to London. The experience left Alicia swaying on her feet, so George wrapped his arm around her to steady them both. He looked around. Compared to Zanzibar, the back alley was far from scenic. It was brick and barren. The air was cold, the sky filled with dark clouds threatening rain. A smile crossed his face. It was good to be back.

Alicia sighed. "We're home."

George said, "I bet Caper will be glad to see us."

Seconds later, the door opened.

"You're back!" Ginny cried, rushing out to hug them. The other three "interns" followed. "Caper said you were, but Hermione didn't believe him."

"How could he have known? Only house-elves with masters..." Hermione's voice trailed off as Ron edged past her.

"You've got tans," He said accusingly. "How did you get a tan in Wales?"

"We only spent the first night there," George said. He avoided Hermione's speculative gaze to call out, "How have things been at the shop, _James_?"

Harry ran a hand over his appearance-charmed blond hair. "Smooth. If there hadn't been a few prejudiced gits who refused to be served by an elf, Caper wouldn't have needed us at all."

"There will always be gits," George said. He smiled blandly at Ginny. "Found yourself with loads of time to organise the storeroom, did you?"

"Not really. Caper had us running errands and testing products, mostly."

"What kind of products?" George asked, trying not to think about Merry Massage Oil.

Ron said, "Boomerang Berets and Bowlers, to see if we could find a spell that wouldn't bounce back."

"We didn't," Hermione said disappointedly. Her expression cheered. "We did discover a spell to keep Toe Rags from cutting off circulation when they wrap around your feet."

"Excellent!" George said. "Mothers will soon be tossing them onto messy floors to teach children valuable lessons about being tidy."

Alicia said, "Or naughty children will buy them to ambush their parents."

"Toe-rags buying Toe Rags? I like it! To celebrate, I'm taking everyone out to lunch."

Ron said, "You promised before you left to buy us lunch and let us go early on our last day."

"I was only going to spring for fish and chips," George said. "Now—sky's the limit."

A few hours later, he gazed out at the skyline displayed by the tower restaurant's wall of windows. The Galleons he'd be paying for the privilege of dining in London's tallest building was likely to be equally sky high, but the price was worth it. The view was spectacular, and no one—from the hostess and server to the other patrons—had raised a brow to see a house-elf in their party.

He understood why when a white-bearded wizard shuffled past their table with an ancient house-elf trailing behind him. "Elves should sit on the floor, not at the table," the wizard grumbled loudly.

"Welcome to the new world, old man," George said in an equally carrying tone.

"Hear, hear!" said Ron.

Alicia was looking worriedly at Caper. "I hope he didn't offend you."

"I hope someone tricks him into giving his house-elf a sock," Hermione said fiercely. Her cheeks were red with anger.

Caper's face lost all colour. "Do not be saying that!" he said hoarsely. "To have no master when you is wishing it is terrible. Terrible!" He ducked his head. "I is sorry to ruin lunch. I will return to the shop now." He Disapparated.

George stared at the empty chair. "What the hell was that about?"

"Go talk to him," Alicia said. "I'll settle things here."

"Thanks." George tried to Apparate. He couldn't. It was a little embarrassing.

"They probably have an Anti-Disapparation Jinx on the place," Ron said.

"To make sure people pay for their meals," Harry added.

Hermione's exuberant hair waved with her nods. "That Caper could bypass the security only proves that the power and complexity of elfish magic should be respected, not used and degraded."

"Yeah," Ron said.

Harry and Ginny nodded, exchanging amused glances.

Alicia said, "Absolutely" and then turned to George. "They have warm chocolate pudding with coffee and white chocolate ice creams," she said. "I'll bring some home in a stasis box."

"There wouldn't be more than a bite left," George tried to joke. "I've shared puddings with you before."

She smiled. "You could take something for afters back to the shop."

"Brilliant idea." He kissed her cheek and rose from his seat.

There were no customers in the shop when he arrived. George closed the door and changed the sign to "Closed" with a spell. "Chocolate pudding or iced lemon mousse with soft cranberries. Take your pick."

"Cranberries is tasty," Caper said.

George handed over an ivory-coloured box. "Let's eat upstairs in the kitchen."

"You is not angry at me?" Caper asked when they sat at the table.

"For speaking your mind? Of course not."

"Miss Hermione is not angry?"

"She created the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," George said. "Hermione's only angry on your behalf."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Curiosity finally prompted George to ask, "Did you lose a master? Is that why you were so upset?"

Caper's head bowed. "I is from Hogwarts elves," he said. "I served the school, but I was always wishing for a master."

"Why?"

The elf said thoughtfully, "I is different from the others. Not serious enough. Too much liking laughter." He looked at George with round, sad eyes. "When I was serving Professor Kettleburn, I was happy. He loved to laugh."

The Care of Magical Creatures professor had been infamous for his bad luck. Every "unique" creature he attempted to introduce to the curriculum ended up causing him bodily harm.

In the back of his mind, George heard, _The man chuckled over being trampled by a water bull. He joked about retiring to spend more time with his remaining limbs. He may have been a nutter, but he had an impressive sense of humour!_

"Did you want Kettleburn to take you with him when he left?" George asked.

Caper's gaze turned inward. "Dumbledore was kind to free me from service," he whispered, "but the professor was not needing a house-elf. He was going to live with family."

"What kind of family wouldn't need a house-elf?" George crumpled up his serviette and threw it on the table. "Mad as hatters, I reckon. He did you a favour."

"Yes, he did. I is much happier now."

George remembered the dingy room above the Sleazy Kneazle and the elf's teary-eyed joy over the prospect of being _a proper house-elf with a proper home to clean and a proper __mister __to serve. _He had tried to deny it, pretended Caper was a homeless employee living in a cubbyhole off the storeroom, but it wasn't the truth.

By chance or by fate, Caper was his house-elf.

"That makes two of us," George said, thinking of Alicia.

The next day, he was sitting in Mrs. Spinnet's lounge after dinner, thinking Ron and Ginny didn't know how fortunate they were to be back at school, thousands of kilometres between them and wedding plans. The guest list was so long, the mums had to take turns reading so they could catch their breath. George didn't really care who all was invited.

A faint snort echoed in his mind. _When Bill got married I said I wouldn't bother with any of this nonsense—d'you think I had the Sight?_

George thought Fred had hated tight collars.

Beside him on the sofa, Alicia's sharp intake of breath snagged George's attention. "What were the last few names?" he asked Mrs. Spinnet.

Instead of flashing him an impatient look the way his mother would have, Anne said, "Dean Thomas, Kenneth Towler, and ah—Oliver Wood."

_Ah—interesting stumble there. _

"Sounds like we're inviting all of Gryffindor," George said lightly. He looked at Alicia. "Anyone you want to strike off the list?"

"Ah—no," she said.

_A hereditary speech impediment? Ah think not!_

"If you did," Anne said, "I'm sure everyone would understand."

"Humph," Molly said. "Not without an explanation. Every name on this list is family or friend."

"The list is fine," Alicia said.

George took her hand and rubbed the pad of his thumb across her wrist. Although Alicia seemed composed, her heart beat fast. "If it's okay with you, it's okay by me," he said.

"It's okay."

He decided not to press the issue. Whether or not Alicia had gone out on a few dates with Oliver, it hadn't been serious enough to keep her from inviting him to the wedding.

A week later, the suspicion he'd shrugged off was aroused again when George decided to drop by The Light Fantastic to take Alicia to lunch.

"Did you forget that you were supposed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron?" Zoe said, after telling him Alicia had already left. "That makes two of you."

"Two?"

"Mr. Wood came in awhile back. Alicia said they were supposed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron and he said he wanted to see where she worked, so she showed him around and they left." Zoe sighed deeply. "He was ever so nice, and dead gorgeous with it. Makes me almost wish I didn't have a boyfriend."

_What about fiancés? Does Oliver make women wish they didn't have them too?_

George said goodbye, heading to the Leaky Cauldron with strides that grew faster as he walked. He would never sneak around with an ex-girlfriend. What in the hell did Alicia think she was doing?

He stepped into the dark interior of the pub, scanning the room for Alicia. She was sitting at a table in the back, listening intently to whatever Oliver was saying. The way her eyes remained fixed on her companion raised George's hackles. When Oliver leaned closer to Alicia, the blood rushed to George's face.

_Hold on; don't go charging__ over to give Wood the Malfoy treatment. You don't know what's going on._

George took a step forward. No, he didn't, but he was going to find out.

-

* * *

A/N: I meant to give the honeymoon four paragraphs and move on, but then I started writing, and once again proved that outlines are more like guidelines, really. ;). I used Isidore of Seville's seventh century account of the phoenix (_Etymologies_, Book 12, 7:22) to fit the culture. In HP, the scarlet body feathers glow faintly and Dumbledore used one as a quill. The khanga sayings were taken word for word from a site chanced upon when doing research for the chapter. Even the colours are the same, since the one so conveniently had Harpies colours while the other brought to mind Teddy Lupin's hair. The wizard restaurant was modelled after Rhodes 24, located on the 24th floor of the tallest building in London, Tower 42. I used desserts off the website, because they sounded delicious. Whether or not readers find cliffies as sweet:D, I hope it makes everyone look forward to the next chapter! 

The people whose reviewed a Monday post, making my week sweeter than warm chocolate pudding with coffee and white chocolate ice cream were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, aurinkosi, btyrhrtout, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cassandra's Cross, Creative Touch, DaphneD, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, hermioneron, hondagirl, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, Infinite Horizon, JasperisMYeverything, Kates Master, lady clark of books, mackgirl, MBP, MidnightBlack07, MollyCoddles, NavyBlueDreamsandKhakithoughts, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, sinful delight, siriuslycoco, Snuffles7, sofia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, Tabbycat1220, tambrathegreat, The-Unknown-Halliwell, tidbit2008, Tina101, Twinsmom, WEASLEYLOVER, and xoxphoenix. **


	29. Hey Jealousy

Alicia listened to Oliver apologise for waiting until she owled to get in contact, thinking he might be Quidditch-mad, but Oliver Wood was a genuinely caring person. He had shown interest in her work and remembered that she liked her Butterbeer hot. He was being so nice; Alicia felt guiltier than ever. Oliver even took the blame for how things ended between them. Shame caused her to look away—only to find her gaze drawn to another brown-eyed man.

"George," she whispered, thinking, _Shite! What am I going to do_?

"What?" Oliver asked, leaning closer.

"George is here."

Oliver tensed. "Does he know?"

"No—and I want to keep it that way." Alicia rose to greet her fiancée. "Hullo!" she said brightly. "We were just talking about you—about the wedding." When she tried to peck his cheek, George turned his head, kissing her full on the lips. His mouth covered hers, turning a greeting into something more passionate. Alicia blushed, but she didn't pull away.

George kissed her until she swayed against him. "I dropped by the shop. Zoe told me you two were here," he said, drawing away. "Have you already ordered?"

Alicia tried to smile. It came out lopsided. "Ah—no."

"Ah—good." George seated her before saying to Oliver, "Hullo, Wood. Mind if I join you?"

Oliver stood, holding out his hand. "Of course not. We're all friends. I was just telling Alicia that I'll be sorry to miss the wedding."

After a brief handshake, George took a seat. "Most people would've owled." His direct gaze said, _Why didn't you?_

"It was no trouble," Oliver said. "Anyway, I figured Alicia could give me ideas on where to shop for a wedding gift."

"Is that what you've been doing?" George asked Alicia. "Giving him ideas?"

_Oh, Merlin, _she thought, not fooled by the light tone. _He's suspicious! I don't want to make things worse! _"I told Oliver he didn't have to buy us a present," she said. "We have everything we need for the flat, don't we?"

"More than enough." George smiled blandly at Oliver. "We could use baby gear, though."

The server chose that moment to make an appearance. Since bringing their drinks, the young witch had applied makeup and changed into a Puddlemere United t-shirt. The girl stretched out the bottom of her hem, asking Oliver, "Would you autograph my shirt? My little brother's your biggest fan."

He accepted a lime green quill. "Sure. What's his name?"

"L-O-R-I."

"Unusual name for a lad," George said. "Is he a Hufflepuff?"

The girl dissolved into giggles. "No. That's my name."

After the server walked off, George said, "I don't think her brother's going to get that t-shirt."

His dry tone made Alicia smile. "I think Lori's brother is Oliver's _second_ biggest fan."

George relaxed into his chair. "You deal with that kind of thing often, Wood?"

"Not too often."

"All the time," Alicia said at the same moment. She wanted to bite her tongue.

George sat up straighter. "Which is it?"

"I guess I'm so used to being asked for autographs I don't pay attention to how often it happens," Oliver said.

George looked steadily at Alicia. "But you noticed."

She took a sip of foamy Butterbeer. "No one was asking for my autograph," she said. "I guess it made more of an impression on me."

George was starting to unnerve her with his assessing gaze. "I guess so," he murmured.

Oliver cleared his throat. "I—I wanted to say congratulations to you both. Not just on the wedding—but the baby. I'm happy for you."

Alicia smiled. "Thank you."

"Yes," George said. "Thank you." He scooted his chair closer to Alicia and reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. "So, I hear your club's in talks for a new Seeker," he said to Oliver.

"Rumours sell papers." Oliver shook his head. "There's no truth in it."

George ran his thumb across Alicia's wrist. "That's what the Falcons said about Beckham. Now the poor sod's chasing Quaffles across the pond as a Sweetwater All-Star."

"His wife loves shopping," Alicia said. "I'm sure she's enjoying the boutiques."

"How do you know Beckham's wife?" George asked.

She answered as though he had asked out of idle curiosity. "We met at a party, but Tori's always in the papers. She makes both the Best and Worst Dressed lists every year."

"She's as famous as her husband," Oliver said bewilderedly, "and she doesn't even play Quidditch!"

George said, "You could be in Beckham's shoes one day, Wood. All you have to do is hook up with a Siren's Secret model."

"That won't happen." Oliver smiled a little. "I don't fancy the high-maintenance type."

Alicia's stomach twisted when George said, "Who do you fancy, Wood?" He snapped his fingers. "I bet I know."

Oliver's expression was wary. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Any girl who loves Quidditch." George's eyes slid to Alicia.

She pointed to where Lori weaved her way through the tables with their lunch order. "How about girls who serve you food, Oliver? You like to eat."

"This one even loves Quidditch—or at least Quidditch players," George said. "Maybe you should ask her out."

Oliver shook his head. "No use. Long distance relationships don't work."

"Are you speaking from personal experience?" George asked.

The jealous edge to the "friendly" questions frayed Alicia's nerves. He was playing cat and mouse with them. It was a small relief when George untwined their fingers to take a bottle of Butterbeer from the server. She missed the warmth of his skin but not the way he seemed to be constantly checking her pulse! It had to be pounding.

Oliver took an enormous bite of his roast beef sandwich. Stress had killed Alicia's appetite. Since she didn't want either man to ask if something was wrong with the quiche—or wrong with her—she forced herself to eat.

George didn't bring up Oliver's "personal experience" again. He ate his grilled chicken and asked about Puddlemere's latest match. While Oliver gave them a play-by-play, Alicia tried to read George's face. Did he think she'd been sneaking around behind his back? Would he ask if Oliver had been more than a friend?

Alicia had managed to eat half the quiche when she noticed a couple entering the pub. It was Vicky and Kenneth. Kenneth saw her and waved. Vicky stood gaping at them with her mouth hanging open.

_It's not as bad as it looks! _Alicia thought desperately. She waved to her friends while praying they'd go away.

Vicky snapped out of her trance and dragged Kenneth out the door.

"What was that about?" George asked. "She took one look at you and ran off." His eyes travelled from Alicia to Oliver. "Or rather the three of us."

Her stomach couldn't handle the tension anymore. She bolted for the loo, barely making it to a toilet. Her insides convulsed violently.

Alicia wasn't aware George had followed until she felt his hands in her hair, holding the strands away from her face. "Oh, gods," she moaned. "I thought I was over morning sickness."

"Let's rinse your mouth," George said. He gently helped Alicia to her feet. While she used water and spells to clean her mouth and face, he rubbed her back soothingly. "Feeling better?"

She nodded. Physically, yes. Her emotional health was a different story.

A harried-looking witch with three small children entered the loo. She didn't seem to notice the couple standing beside the washbasin. "Wash your hands after you use the toilet," she told the two older boys, before accompanying the little girl into a stall.

The younger boy tugged on his older brother's jumper. "You said when we's bigger Mummy won't make us use the ladies' toilet anymore!"

After a moment's consideration, the older brother said, "He's probably naughty so he has to stay where she can see him."

Two sets of blue eyes looked inquiringly at George.

He said, "Yes, I'm very naughty."

Alicia pulled him out of the loo before the children asked for details.

At the table, Oliver was chatting with their server. Flushed and starry eyed, the girl wrote what looked like her Floo direction on a serviette.

"What's this?" George asked, when the girl moved away to take another customer's order. "Changed your mind about long-distance romance?"

"It's only a date." Oliver's eyes were on Alicia. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. George took care of me," she said. "I should return to the shop."

"You should take the rest of the day off," George said firmly. "Come home and rest."

She fought the urge to giggle hysterically. _I wouldn't get much rest lying in bed waiting for you to come up and have a "talk" about Oliver!_

"If I feel bad I'll come home," she said. "I promise." Alicia smiled at Oliver. "Thank you for Flooing to London. Good luck with the season—with everything." Unable to hug her ex with her fiancé watching, she held out her hand.

Oliver took it between both of his. "Thanks. I wish you the best—always."

"Take care." She turned away before guilt and pregnancy hormones caused the tears clogging her throat to spill down her cheeks.

Once again, George followed. Neither spoke on the walk to The Light Fantastic. "I'll see you later," she said, when he stepped past her to open the door.

He kissed her cheek. "I'll close shop early."

A chill of apprehension shuddered down her spine. "I was thinking of making lasagne tonight," she said. "I'll put you to work on the salad."

"I'll look forward to it."

Alicia didn't think he meant chopping vegetables. She said goodbye and went inside—making a beeline for the office. "I need to talk to Vicky, Mum," she said. "Can you do without me for a little longer?"

Her mother's eyes asked a multitude of questions. "Zoe told me she sent George to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Mmhmm." Alicia wasn't going to talk about it. "I'll be back soon."

Anne sighed. "Take your time, dear."

Alicia slipped out the service entrance, taking the rear alleyway instead of the street to get to Flourish and Blott's. She found Vicky on the second floor, using her wand to dust books. Her friend gasped when she saw her. "Alicia! Oh my gods—are you okay?" She rushed over to hug her. "I almost fainted when I saw the three of you having lunch in the pub!"

"I wish you had." Alicia quickly told her what happened.

Vicky said, "He held your hair while you puked? That's almost romantic! Kenneth wouldn't follow me into the toilet to have it off, much less—" She stopped abruptly, lowering her voice to say, "Sorry. I do think it was sweet."

"So do I." She looked at her friend miserably. "What am I going to do? I can't tell him—"

"Why not?"

"I _can't." _Alicia's lips trembled. "It isn't fair to—"

"Don't hide behind Oliver when this is really about you." Vicky threw up her hands. "Fine. Be honest about your relationship but don't go into specifics." She shook her head. "I still don't understand why—"

Alicia said, "I don't understand why you think Kenneth wouldn't make love anywhere you wanted. Have you ever asked?"

The distraction worked like a charm. Vicky bit her lip. "D'you think I should?"

Vicky and Kenneth had the kind of relationship where they could tell each other anything. Alicia felt a pang of envy. "Yes. I do."

-

George found it hard to concentrate on work. He kept thinking about Alicia and Oliver Wood.

_Doesn't do you any good to wonder if Wood's seen her naked. Wait until she gets home and ask her__ straight out. _

Imagining his brother's advice didn't make George feel better. His fingers tightened around the quill in his hand. It was one thing to know Alicia had slept with someone before him. He hadn't been a virgin either and didn't care about the past—until Alicia's past took her to lunch in the present.

_Ballsy of him, wasn't it? _

"We're all friends here." George imitated Wood's Scottish accent. "I wish you the best—always."

_Blokes who date a girl casually don't talk like that, do they? Now you're wondering how many times he's seen her naked, eh?_

Worse than that, he was picturing it! George was a visual person. Fantasising about Alicia was an enjoyable pastime, but not when his brain supplied images of her with another man! He kept "seeing" them together: Oliver and Alicia kissing, Oliver standing behind Alicia, cupping her breasts.

George snapped the quill in half, splattering ink across the desk. He swore.

"Mister is needing assistance?" Caper Apparated from the doorway to his side in a twinkling. The ink vanished. "Is there anything else, Mister George?"

"I'll run the shop for the rest of the day," George said. "I need you to clean the flat and do some marketing—if you don't mind."

Caper's eyes shone. "I is happy to serve."

Hours later, George was setting out ingredients for the salad when Alicia stepped into the kitchen. "I think Caper went overboard at the market," he said. "There's three kinds of lettuce and at least a dozen different vegetables."

A smile replaced her slightly guarded expression. "Overboard in a good way." She gestured to the table set with china, candles, and a long stemmed orange rose in a crystal bud vase. "Like this."

He watched her bend to draw in the scent of the rose. "Do you like the colour? I didn't want to give you something ordinary."

"It's lovely, like a sunset."

"You're lovely," George said. "I should tell you that more."

"You're handsome," Alicia said. "I'd tell you that every day, except you might think I'm just after your body." She closed the space between them. "I want all of you…and only you."

George kissed her softly. "And I only want you."

As they made dinner together, he asked about Alicia's day. Once they sat down to eat, he talked about customers, about his father's bizarre love of Muggle-made food—anything except the topic that he most wanted to broach.

"Dinner's excellent," he said.

"Thank you. I worried you might not like spinach lasagne. Not everyone does."

"Does Oliver?"

"No, he—" Alicia stopped short.

"He's a meat and two veg man? Figures. He never did have much imagination—at least when it came to Quidditch. Always went by the playbook," he said. "How long did you two date?"

Alicia's eyes were huge and shadowed. "It's in the past. It doesn't matter."

"I suppose not, since you invited him to the wedding."

"That was your mother. I didn't want to announce that he was my ex-boyfriend—"

"Boyfriend." George tried to keep his tone level. "You mean lover?"

Alicia flinched. "I never intended for him to come to the wedding. I owled that same day—"

"If you owled, why did he come to London? It wasn't to buy us a present. He wanted to see you, didn't he?" George fought the urge to go downstairs and ask Caper to locate Oliver Wood. He'd like to see how the bastard played Keeper with broken fingers spelled not to heal.

"It isn't what you think—" Her eyes were swimming with tears.

George pushed away from the table. "I don't know what I think except...I need to go somewhere and do some thinking." He left the flat, taking the stairs two at a time. In the storeroom, he knocked on the door to Caper's cubby.

The house-elf materialised beside him. "Mister is needing me?"

"Alicia could use some help clearing the kitchen," he said gruffly. "And, uh, a pot of tea or something. I'm going out." He turned on his heel.

Outside, he stared up at the windows of the flat. Was Alicia crying?

_You'd be upset if she wasn't._

George hunched his shoulders against the cold, wrapping his cloak tighter. He visualised his destination and Apparated.

At Shell Cottage, he pounded on the door.

Bill answered the door in a towelling robe. He smelled heavily of almond oil. George raised an eyebrow. Had Fleur and Alicia bought flagons at the same time? He wasn't going to ask. George said, "Am I interrupting?"

"Yes. Come in anyway."

A stream of French flowed down the stairway. Bill's reply was shorter, yet equally impassioned. "Did you promise it was her turn for a massage when you get rid of me?" George asked.

"What makes you say that?"

"Your feet." They glistened with oil. "I'm surprised you didn't break your neck walking downstairs."

"I bought a carpet runner."

"Smart man." George glanced toward the staircase, trying to think of the right way to phrase what he wanted to say. After a few seconds, he gave up. "Fleur had boyfriends before you, right?"

"She's part Veela."

George made a face. "Right. I forget sometimes."

"That's why you're her favourite brother-in-law."

"Really? That's nice—anyway," George said, returning to the question he needed to ask, "If one of Fleur's old boyfriends showed up, and you thought his intentions were more than friendly, what would you do?"

"It's happened." Bill shrugged. "Diagon Alley isn't that big. You run into people."

"What did you do?"

"At the time? Nothing. I was polite—but when we got home, I reminded Fleur of all the reasons she chose me."

"Like a list?" _Handsome, successful, makes you laugh…._

"Actions, not words." Bill smiled wolfishly. "Although the right words are important."

A Sonorous Charm carried Fleur's voice downstairs. "Shall I dress and put on ze kettle for tea?"

"I have to get back to Alicia. Thanks for the offer." George lowered his voice. "Thanks for the advice."

Bill put a hand on George's shoulder. "Anytime."

-

* * *

A/N: I'd apologise for writing a chapter that raises more questions than it answers, but readers know I'd only really be sorry if they didn't care about having those questions answered. :D The chapter title is a song by the Gin Blossoms that reminds me of George when he first got together with Alicia, and this line now, as well. _'Cause all I really want is to be with you, Feeling like I matter too... _In the books, Oliver is only described as 'burly', so I based his appearance on the actor who plays him in the film, brown-eyed and fit, with broad shoulders. ;) As for Beckham—yes, it's a nod to David Beckham and his 'Posh' wife Victoria, who likes to shop. 

**Special Thanks **to everyone who took time out of a Valentine weekend to R&R **Gone Fishing. **For those who haven't read it yet, I'd love your feedback on George and Blaise's fishing trip!

The readers I love for giving feedback on the last chapter are...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, anon, Bandon Banshee, Bardlover, Blue Leah, btyrhrtout, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cassandra's Cross, Cazx, chibi angelle, Creative Touch, DaphneD, Dark Rose of Heaven, Diana42, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, flutterby 162, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, Herb3, hermioneron, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, infinity, JasperisMYeverything, Kd2t2, lady clark of books, Lieu Of Flowers, lunaliving, mackgirl, Maelys, maraudernumba5, MBP, Meeh-san, MidnightBlack07, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs. Hermione Jane Weasley, Obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, RahNee, siriuslycoco, Slipknot-3113, Snuffles7, Sophia Loren, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, Sunshine Spray, Tabbycat1220, tambrathegreat, The-Unknown-Halliwell, tiffyrose, Tina101, Twinsmom, and WeaslysForEvER. **


	30. Actions and Words

_I need to go somewhere and do some thinking._

Alicia listened to the front door shut, blinking away tears. Would George go to a pub to do his "thinking?" If he came home angry, she would hit him with a stunning spell and leave him to wonder when _she _was coming back! If he returned apologetic and wanting to make love, however, she didn't trust herself to insist they talk first. Drunk or sober, George Weasley was hard to resist.

Out of habit, she began to clear the table. She stared down at half-eaten food. _Why should I clean the mess he's made? _Alicia set the plates onto the tablecloth with a thud, splattering red sauce onto white linen. _He can clean that too, _she thought defiantly. _And if he doesn't I'll bundle everything up and dump it in the rubbish bin! _She picked up the rose in its crystal vase. "Except this."

Her determined march faltered once she reached the lounge. Alicia set the vase down on a side table. George said he needed to think. If she went looking for him at the Bat and Bludger and found him drinking, she might do something rash like dump a pint of beer over his head. That wouldn't help!

If only waiting wasn't so hard.

Alicia looked out the window. Through sheer draperies, she could see into the lounge of the flat next door. The elderly couple who ran the cauldron shop appeared to be standing on the centre of the rug, hugging. Alicia knew they were dancing. On nights when the couple opened the window, music from the wireless radio drifted across the alley. Slow and dreamy, the songs triggered memories of her childhood. Her dad had loved to dance her mum around the kitchen every night after clearing the dishes. Alicia had swayed along, drying plates with a tea towel.

_You've got a hold on me..._

The sound of her dad's deep voice singing Celestina Warbeck songs always made her giggle.

_Your face is all I see..._

Her mother had sighed.

_I never want to break free..._

If she and George could forge a love like the one her parents had shared—like his parents shared—life would be beautiful.

_You cast a spell on me..._

Alicia was still swaying when she turned to see Caper standing a couple of metres away. She almost jumped out of her skin.

He held out a mug painted with the triple W _Funny Business_ logo. "Mister George asked me to clean and make a pot of tea."

Oh, gods, it was too close to her dream of the future: George sending Caper to fulfil his responsibilities. She said, "He should've stayed and cleaned up his own mess."

Caper tilted his head to the side as though unsure how to read her tone.

"And you should've knocked instead of popping in." Alicia reached for the cup. "Thank you for the tea, though."

"Is ginger, for digestion."

That was thoughtful. "Listen," she said, "I appreciate everything you do for us, but sometimes..." Alicia bit her lip. "How about we talk in the kitchen? I'll pour you a cup of tea or a glass of Butterbeer—whichever you prefer."

"Butterbeer. A small glass."

She smiled. "Do you like chocolate almond torte?"

After they settled at the table, Alicia said, "I don't know much about house-elves. Do you serve only the—er—Mister, or do you help the mistress of the house too?"

"I is happy to serve the whole family."

"In that case," Alicia said, "it would help me if you would knock on the front door."

"Even on mornings I is making breakfast?"

"Not then," she said, deciding to qualify her request. "Just when it might be…embarrassing."

"Yes, Mistress."

Being called Mistress reminded Alicia of the black leather corset she'd eyed while buying a maternity camisole in Siren's Secrets. "I'd rather not be called that," she said. _Unless it's by George while I'm wearing that corset and thigh-high boots! _She smiled. "Please, call me Alicia."

"Yes, Madam Alicia."

She got the hint; he was more comfortable with formality. "Thank you." She sipped her tea and ate a bite of torte. "Delicious, isn't it?"

Caper had eaten his entire slice. He took a long drink of Butterbeer and grinned. "Choc'late iss da bes'!"

_Stars and Stones! _Alicia thought. _Chocolate compounds the effects of Butterbeer! _She saw Caper glance at the remaining torte. _Oh, no, you don't! _Quickly, she said, "I have an idea."

It only took a minute for Caper to pop down to the shop's Muggle section. Soon they were sitting in the lounge with their backs propped against the sofa, tossing cards into a magician's top hat.

"I used to be good at this." Alicia watched her card slide off the brim onto the floor and shrugged. The ten of spades was a rotten card, anyway: cartomancy-speaking. Who needed worry in their life? "Dad and I played whenever Mum had her mah-jong group over," she said. Her eyes grew misty. "We used his wizard's hat. It hopped around the room to give Dad a challenge."

Caper held the Jack of clubs between his thumb and forefinger. He sent it zipping into the hat with ease. _A reliable friend indeed, _she thought.

The elf laid a finger aside of his nose. "S'all inna wist." He nodded sagely, green eyes twinkling.

Alicia concentrated on snapping her wrist. The five of hearts sailed across the room and dropped right in. _Brilliant of me, _she thought. _The last thing I need is more jealousy and indecision! _

Caper obviously put no store in Divination. He cheered.

The front door opened.

George wore an odd expression on his face. He seemed caught between a smile and frown.

"'ullo, Misser!" Caper cried. "We's playin' cards!"

"So I see."

Alicia rose clumsily to her feet. When George reached out to steady her, she thrust the cards into his hand. "Here. You finish for me. I'm going to take a bath—do some thinking. Good night, Caper."

She headed for the bedroom, surprised by her feelings. George hadn't been gone long. He didn't have beer or Firewhisky on his breath. Why wasn't she thrilled that he'd come back to talk things out?

Alicia jerked open the wardrobe, yanking her red silk robe off its hanger. Now that he had returned, she felt secure enough to be angry. Was this what she had to look forward to—George leaving the flat every time there was a conflict? She undressed, thinking, _What kind of example will that be to our child? Finish eating, darling, and then straight into the bath. Yes, dear, I hope Daddy will be back in time to tell you a bedtime story, too!_

When George entered the bathroom, she was sitting on the edge of the tub, adjusting the hot water charm to a suitable temperature.

"You're mad at me," he said. "I deserve it. I was wrong to leave."

"You had a right to be upset," she said, reaching for a flagon of bath oil. "I should have spoken up that day at my mother's, or at least told you I was meeting Oliver for lunch." She removed the stopper and then changed her mind. She wasn't in the mood for lavender.

"Excuses don't change the fact that I was a jealous arse. I'm sorry."

Alicia chose another flagon. "After we left Hogwarts and Angelina made the Harpies, I went with her to parties. She felt more comfortable with a friend along." The aroma of sandalwood and rosewood was calming. She poured a generous measure into the water. "That's when I ran into Oliver."

"You never said you were dating. Not once, during all those lunches our gang used to spend together."

"We lived in different cities." She checked the water, able to speak calmly as long as she avoided George's eyes. "Oliver was trying to make it off the reserve list. We didn't date like a normal couple." The temperature was a little too warm. She adjusted it with a spell. "You never talked about your girlfriends either."

"There weren't that many—and they weren't girlfriends."

Alicia turned off the water and looked at George. "Do you think that made me any less jealous?" She stood to face him. "I had a boyfriend, but I still wasn't that experienced. There were things I'd never done before. Things you had."

A flush revealed the sprinkling of freckles George had acquired on holiday, whether his vanity allowed him to admit it or not. "That was different," he said. "I never cared about anyone else. You did. Enough to see him behind my back."

"I tried to tell you it wasn't what you thought!"

"And I didn't listen." After a moment's silence, he said quietly, "Give me another chance. Please."

Tears filled her eyes. He didn't know what he was asking. "All right," she said. "Let me tell Oliver first." She closed her eyes and used the memory of George's proposal to cast a specialised Patronus.

George watched a silvery mouse take form and scamper through the wall.

_Well, that explains why she's a sucker for your cheesiness._

"I thought we were only supposed to use the messenger spell for Order business," he said.

Alicia lifted her chin. "The war is over. I'll use it whenever I need it."

He couldn't argue with her reasoning.

_And her tone said you'd better not try!_

George had to ask, "Why haven't you sent me messages with your Patronus?"

_First cheese, now whine. You're a one-man cocktail party!_

"That's the first time I've cast the spell, if you must know."

_You jealous arse, you._

"Yeah, I'm like that. Forgive me?"

Her posture relaxed a little. "Yes."

She didn't say anything more. George was wondering if she couldn't figure out how to begin when a Patronus in the shape of a lion padded into the room.

_Sure he's strong and noble, _his inner voice piped up. _But I bet Wood lazes around like a lion when he's not on the Quidditch pitch and makes his partner do all the work, too, if you get my drift. _

George got it—and wished he could hear the Patronus' message.

_No, you don't. He's probably laying it on thick about only wanting the best for her in that 'I look manly in a skirt' accent of his! _

The lion dissolved into a silvery mist and vanished.

Alicia walked out of the bathroom.

George followed. "What did he say?" If Wood tried to pressurize her to keep secrets, he would find himself facing an angry Patronus.

_Quidditch Star Attacked By Ghost Squirrel! You might make front page of The Quibbler if a Crumple-Horned Snorkack hasn't been sighted._

"Oliver has no problem with me telling you—details." Alicia stood by the bedside table, gazing at the vase he'd placed there. She touched the rose with a fingertip. "I'm the one who's having a hard time of it."

"Then don't tell me," George said, suddenly resolved. "You've never given me reason to be jealous. I don't need details to trust you. I believe that he's only a friend—"

"That was my problem," Alicia cut in. "I liked Oliver so much I kept hoping I'd feel more than friendship." As though not having to tell freed her to share, she said, "He thought I was mature because I understood his commitment to the team; separations didn't bother me." Her lips twisted. "I was naïve."

"No—"

"Yes," she said flatly. "We never talked about feelings, much less sex. I wasn't satisfied, but I couldn't tell him. He seemed content and I was too shy."

There were many adjectives to describe Alicia: passionate, giving, expressive, creative—_shy _wasn't one of them.

_Something about you loosens her inhibitions._

She dropped her eyes. "When I read a Cosmopolitan Witch article about spicing up your sex life, I decided to try one of the ideas. Using fantasy wasn't really cheating. It wouldn't hurt anyone." Her fingers trembled as she reached for the rose. "I didn't expect to get caught up in it," she whispered. "I never meant to cry out."

Every muscle in his body tensed. She wasn't saying—

"It was awful." Alicia clutched the stem. She gasped, opening her hand to stare at the thorn and the blood. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I couldn't make things right, no matter how hard I tried." Her voice broke. "I kept my eyes open, but I said your name in my heart."

_It's always been George._

_I didn't move in with you because I'm pregnant._

_I love you._

_I said your name in my heart._

Shame pierced like a burning knife: hot and sharp. George took Alicia's hand and removed the thorn, kissing her palm before enfolding her in his arms. He was such a stupid bastard.

She laid her head against his chest, releasing a shuddering breath.

His arms tightened. He stared at their reflection in the shadowed wardrobe panel. It was time to bring some things to light.

Alicia glanced up questioningly when every illumination orb in the room began to glow.

He cradled her face in his hands, kissing her softly. "When I keep my eyes open it's because I want to watch you. The look in your eyes—your mouth on my skin." He brushed his fingertips across her cheek and into her hair, sliding it back. He traced the curve of her ear with his lips. "Tonight I want you to keep your eyes open." George shifted Alicia to face the mirror. "I want to show you how beautiful you are." He trailed a finger down her throat, following the line of revealed skin to her belt. Slowly, he loosened the tie. "Watch me."

-

* * *

A/N: I have a feeling she watched. :D The "Celestina Warbeck" song is the one Alicia hummed in the third chapter, when they were _Making Love Instead of Misery. _The cards Alicia and Caper tossed were the same ones from chapter 26. Some things are _In the Cards, _such as random allusions to Santa Claus, ;), and lovers who find making up is worth the fighting! Since the Patronuses of the twins, Oliver, and Alicia were never mentioned in the books, (or afterwards…yet…grrr…) I looked up animal guides and found that squirrels are the messengers of the gods, mischief-makers, symbolising energy and discovery and teaching others to take life lightly. The lion is regal, calm, and strong, while the mouse symbolises foresight, trust and innocence while sharing the squirrel's trait of discovery. That information, added to an old book called _The Squirrel Twins, _and the fab Aesop's fable _The Lion and the Mouse, _was my inspiration for the Patronuses. Chocolate and Butterbeer making Caper pissed as a newt came from Jo describing the taste to butterscotch, which shows she was probably inspired by Road Dahl's Oompa Loompas getting drunk on butterscotch and buttergin. New meaning to the phrase "a sugar high!" 

The readers who inspired by reviewing last chapter were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, Blue Leah, Carnivalgirl, Cassandra's Cross, Cazx, cinroc, Creative Touch, DaphneD, DigiNinMon, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, flutterby162, GraceRichie, Herb3, hermioneron, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, JasperisMYeverything, Kates Master, lady clark of books, ladyofthecelticland, mackgirl, MBP, Meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs. Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, RahNee, Rana Mya, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Slipknot-3113, Snuffles7, sofia666, SOphia.weasley, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, Tabbycat1220, tambrathegreat, The-Unknown-Halliwell, tiffyrose, Tina101, Twinsmom, WEASLEYLOVER, and xoxphoenix. **


	31. Valentines

Grey skies and cold, rainy weather tightened winter's grip on the city as January passed into February. The number of shoppers thronging Diagon Alley increased progressively, however, despite the lack of sunshine.

Valentine's Day loomed on the horizon.

Holidays meant a spike in business for George, but there was also an increase in work. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes took pride in being a cut above their competitors, introducing new products each season. Last February, George and Fred had unveiled Bittersweets. The black, heart shaped sweets in acid lemon and sour grape flavours sold out before Valentine's Day. This year, after a customer's comment about a Muggle sweet called "Love Hearts" led to a secret purchase, Bittersweets had a new feature.

Messages in glowing red now added insult to injury: TROLL IS CUTER, P.S. I LUV SEX, BAD SPELL, and U FAIL 2 CHARM were a few of his favourite sayings. Alicia had come up with H8 UR MUM and NEED NEW WAND, while Caper supplied DIS-ENCHANTED, HEX U, and MAGIC GONE.

Although not as popular as Bittersweets, Broken Heart Biscuits with zigzag icing and Unlucky in Love trick dice and playing cards were also brisk sellers. The Anti-Valentine's Day line of products Fred had conceived was a success.

As George went over the account books at the end of the first week of sales, he was deeply pleased, yet couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride that his own brainchild was outselling every other item in the shop.

Your_ brainchild?_ He could almost hear Fred snort. _Alicia's the one who gave you the idea to repackage Merry Massage Oil as an aphrodisiac you spell or shower off when "anticipation heightens to its peak." She even gave you the name!_

"She screamed, 'Oh my gods', actually. I edited it to 'Oh My' and came up with the 'fantastic cherry flavour, no aftertaste,' bit," George muttered.

_Was it your idea to make the oil clear, non-sticky, sugar free, and put that information on the bottle?_

"Who knew women read labels?" George noted the increase in each day's profit with a smile. "I thought they'd just go for the name and the decorative red glass."

"They do," Alicia said from the doorway, "but women are always interested in what's inside." She took off her cloak. "You look like a little boy caught filching a biscuit. Don't worry. I talk to myself too, sometimes."

_Not like this, you don't._

George glanced at his watch. "You're home early." Suddenly, he became aware that she was wearing a very pretty outfit. He had overslept that morning, so hadn't seen what she'd worn to work. "Did I forget something? Are we going out?"

"If you want to, we can." She smoothed the fabric of her skirt. "Vicky and I went shopping at lunch. Do you like my new dress?"

It was one of those wrap-things with a snug top and a deep v-neckline. The skirt didn't cover her knees. He frowned. "Did you wear it in the shop?"

"Yes. Is there a reason I shouldn't have?" She moved closer to the desk.

"No. It's pretty. I like that shade of blue. It reminds me of glass—cobalt." When she didn't comment, George said, "Don't you think it's a little sexy for work, though?"

"I was feeling sexy."

He closed the account book. "Yeah?"

She stood beside his chair. "Mmhmm. We had a slow afternoon, so I did some reading. My pregnancy guide says that in the second trimester, increased estrogens and blood flow have a distinct effect on my body. It's called the golden age of pregnancy."

The sultry look she was giving him was having a distinct effect on George's body. He drew her onto his lap, appreciating the view as her skirt rode up to expose the lace band of a thigh high stocking. "Tell me about it."

Alicia shifted to kiss him. "At home," she said. "I wouldn't want to shock Caper."

A few hours later, George's stomach growled so loudly it woke him up. "Let's go out to eat," he said, stretching out a hand to rub Alicia's stomach. He hadn't felt the kid move around yet, but hoped to, soon. _You were probably rocked to sleep, anyway,_ he thought with a smirk.

Unexpectedly, he imagined tiny lips curving into a mirror image of his. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the unsettling image. The last thing he wanted was a little mini-George!

_How about a mini-Fred? Devastatingly handsome, talented, loved by all..._

"No," George said beneath his breath.

"What's that?" Alicia asked, using her increasing "momentum" to roll off the bed.

"Where do you want to go?"

"The Gnome and Jarvey."

"All right." George still wasn't totally at ease with her friends, but he liked them well enough—especially Joey, the lad who thought his jokes were brilliant. "You're not wearing the new dress, are you? It's too cold outside."

Alicia held up a pair of jeans. "I'm wearing these."

"How?" he asked. "They look normal."

She slid them on. "The jeans fasten under the bump." Demonstrating, she said, "Those fabric panels that stretch over the belly really don't appeal to me."

The memory of his mother pulling at her waistband, grumbling, "I feel like an overripe melon stuffed into a bag at the grocer's," had George shaking his head. Those belly bags didn't appeal to him either!

He slid into a pair of dark trousers and found a shirt to match, sniggering over Alicia's black tee. "Baby Love" was embroidered in red across the front.

"Isn't it cute?" she asked, brushing her hair in front of the mirrored wardrobe door. "I got one for you, as well."

Amusement fled. "You're joking."

"Yes, I'm joking."

He exhaled sharply in relief.

"It says I satisfy all her cravings."

George reconsidered his poor opinion of Daddy Shirts.

Alicia laughed at his expression. "That was another joke—but it's true."

He feigned puzzlement. "You bought a shirt?"

"You satisfy all my cravings."

George walked over to stand behind her, pressing close. "What are you craving right now?"

"Hot soup, fresh bread, and chocolate."

He took a step back, chuckling.

She put down her brush and turned, pulling his head down to hers for a soft, lingering kiss. "And that."

By the time they arrived at the pub, the gang had assembled in the back and already ordered drinks. George strolled to the bar to pick up a couple of warm Butterbeers.

"Well if it isn't the former lone wizard," the barmaid said.

Blonde, spell-tanned, fit: she looked vaguely familiar.

"Leah—your server at the Bat and Bludger?"

"Oh, right, hullo," he said. "You work here now?"

"Yes. I finished Bartending School last month." She jerked her head toward the back of the pub. "When's your baby due?"

"June."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. You too."

Back at the table, Joey was staring toward the bar with a moony look on his face. "What's with him?" George asked, handing Alicia a foamy tankard of Butterbeer.

Across the table, Bridget giggled madly. "He's infatuated with the new barmaid," she said, "almost as much as I am with your brother." She pouted. "Why won't you give me Charlie's direction so I can write him a letter?"

"Misguided family loyalty." George took a long swallow of Butterbeer. "Her name's Leah," he told Joey. "She used to serve drinks at the Bat and Bludger. If you like I'll introduce you."

Joey's boyish face lit up.

Around the table, his friends groaned.

On the other side of Alicia, Vicky said, "Another day in the life of a serial dater."

"I'm not a serial dater! I just date a lot of women," Joey said earnestly. "I can't help it if things don't work out."

"Your last date went to the loo and never returned to the table because you were chatting up the server!" Bridget said. Her tone was a mix of fondness and exasperation.

"The girl was friendly. She gave me her Floo direction. I wasn't supposed to take it?" Joey asked.

"NO!" Everyone chorused.

Alicia leaned toward George. "You remembered Leah's name," she said with a hint of a smile. "Should I be jealous?"

He grinned. "She told me her name. I didn't remember her."

She almost looked disappointed. "Oh. Then I suppose full-on Frenching isn't needed to show you're taken."

Before George could respond, Bridget cried, "Frenching! I haven't had a decent French kiss in ages! I wish you would," she said to Alicia. "Then I could pretend you're me, and he's Charlie."

"You're blond," Alicia said, "and he doesn't have enough freckles."

Bridget sighed. "I have a vivid imagination."

George took pity on her. "If you send an owl to Charlie care of the dragon research centre, they'll pass it on."

"They will? Merlin! What should I write?"

While the others gave Bridget advice on how to catch a stranger's interest without coming across as an obsessed stalker, George said to Alicia, "You don't need to do anything to show I'm taken. Trust me. It comes across very clearly."

He bent toward her, and somehow the light kiss he intended became full-on Frenching.

.

Alicia could have happily lived on love, but when it registered that the server had returned to take food orders, she dragged her lips from George's mouth.

"We have a mini lemon tart with bitter chocolate sauce," said their server, Christy, after Alicia ordered French onion soup and asked about afters.

"Is it sinfully delicious?" Alicia slanted a look at George, who winked.

Christy beamed. "Absolutely."

"Then I'll take it."

Vicky and Bridget both raised their hands. "Me too!"

Alicia ended up bartering a bite of her lemon tart for a taste of George's roast beef. She tried to share her mixed green salad, but he said the baby needed all the nutrients. If he hadn't been smirking, she might have believed his motive was pure—and might not have poked him with the tines of her fork.

In the way of groups, a conversational tangent—the best sweets for afters—inspired a new topic of discussion: Valentine's Day.

Half the friends didn't have Valentines, so arranged to gather at Bridget's flat to console each other with wine and fondue. If Alicia hadn't eaten a satisfying meal, her stomach would have rumbled over the list of food the others planned to smother in cheese or chocolate.

"Makes me almost wish we weren't going away for the weekend," Vicky said. "What are you two doing?" she asked Alicia.

"I'm not sure."

George said, "We'll be going out of town as well."

This was the first time Alicia had heard anything about it. Had George hoped to surprise her?

He gave her a sheepish look that said we'll talk about this later, okay?

Alicia smiled her agreement, thinking if their child learned to make puppy-dog eyes like Daddy, she was going to have a hard time taking a stand on discipline.

When they returned to the flat, George hung up their cloaks, used a Warming Charm to "take the chill off" and volunteered to make tea. Amused by his determined solicitousness, she followed him into the kitchen, sitting at the table while he bustled around. Whistling the Cannons running out tune, he put on the kettle and bypassed sturdy beakers in favour of floral china. The moment George placed the raspberry leaf tea on the table; she guessed what he was trying to avoid telling her.

"It's a working holiday, isn't it?"

He slowly nodded. "One of my clients—Mr. Fairlie—wants me to run the fireworks display to celebrate his wife's birthday. Her name's Valentine," he said meaningfully.

She said, "You like them."

"They're rich, eccentric, and think I'm a pyrotechnical genius. What's not to like?" He dropped the facetious tone to say persuasively, "They live in a castle in Scotland. It isn't huge, but there's a tower with battlements and a parapet and flagpole if you like that sort of thing."

What woman didn't? "We'd stay at the castle?"

He nodded vigorously. "You'd like it. It was built in 1500—something, but the Fairlies are mad about the Jacobite period, so it's decorated like Bonnie Prince Charlie's expected for tea."

"It sounds lovely."

The beginning of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "You aren't cross that I accepted the contract?"

"Depends. Did you think you'd talk me round, or did you just not think about it?"

"I didn't think." He took her hand. "Next time I'll tell the client that I need to consult my partner."

She squeezed his fingers. "Thank you."

.

Fairlie Castle was both stately and charming: a perfect match for its owners. Montgomery and Valentine Fairlie, sprightly octogenarians, welcomed George and Alicia cordially when they arrived the afternoon before Valentine's Day, and personally escorted them to a guest chamber.

"It was originally a sewing room when Muggles owned the castle," Mrs. Fairlie said. "It may be a trifle smaller than the other bedrooms, but the view of the pond and the walled garden is unparallel."

After the younger couple was left to unpack, George wandered into the bathroom and called, "Forget the outside view. Come in here!"

Alicia felt her jaw drop when she entered the room. It was as big as the bedroom and had a sunken bath a Roman would envy. "How long until dinner?" she asked, feeling like a kid who couldn't wait to play in the tub. The thought of floating weightless in scented water brought a sigh to her lips.

"Two hours," George said, using a spell to fill the mosaic-tiled bath.

Almost two hours later, tendrils of damp hair clung to Alicia's nape as she and George hurried to join their hosts in the drawing room. The tips of her fingers were still a little prune-y from being in the water so long, but she didn't care. The bath had been bliss.

She and George wore dress robes, figuring the older couple would dress for dinner. Alicia stared in surprise when she saw that the Fairlies had indeed dressed up—in costume. "Your gown is beautiful," she told Mrs. Fairlie.

"Thank you, m'dear. My dressmaker in Edinburgh specialises in historical reproductions." She smiled at her husband. "Elspeth did a fine job on your jacket. I'm sure our guests think your Brandenburg cuffs look quite dashing."

"Quite," said George.

Alicia thought her fiancé looked dashing without enormous cuffs trimmed in gold braid. He would also look better in a kilt. had bony knees.

After dinner, while the men played billiards, gave Alicia a tour of the castle and showed her a dressing room complete with a massive wardrobe for her special gowns. "Do you enjoy dressing in costume?" her hostess asked.

Did the Romanian beer maid outfit she'd worn on Halloween and sexy lingerie count? "Yes. Very much."

clapped her hands together. "I'm so pleased to hear it."

The next evening, Alicia found out why.

"This is your fault," George said, gathering his clothing. "You had to encourage her." He stalked to the bathroom. "Happy-bloody-Valentine's Day!"

Alicia stared after him, biting her lip to keep from smiling. It had been a happy day. After breakfast in bed, they exchanged gifts, strolled in the walled garden along paths lined with white snowdrops and yellow winter aconite, and had lunch in the nearby village. In the afternoon, they shared a warm, sensual bath and a long nap.

She dressed and then gaped at her reflection in the mirror. The cherry red bodice laced over a ruffled-necked chemise and damask skirt flattered her body in a way she would never have dreamt. Her eyes went to the bedside table, and the silver heart George had given her. A replica of a Muggle sweet, the "Love Heart" was engraved with a saying: 3 Wishes.

The door to the bathroom opened. "This is ridiculous," George said. "I don't care if it's 'non-clan.' Englishmen don't belong in kilts!"

"They do if they've got legs like yours," she said.

George looked pleased—until he took in her outfit. "What happened to the baby?" he demanded, striding forward.

"There's an illusion charm woven into the fabric," she said, "According to Mrs. Fairlie's note, the dress makes every maid a comely wench." She gestured toward her stomach. "Obviously, it's by concealing figure flaws."

He put his hands out, visibly relaxing to feel the bump the charm hid from view. "Our baby isn't a flaw, and you're beautiful pregnant."

"You're sexy in a kilt," she said, her eyes roaming over his black jacket and the lace-up closes of his white shirt before dropping to his dark green kilt. George envied his taller brothers, but as far as Alicia was concerned, their legs fell short of his muscular perfection.

George's lips quirked upward. "Are you saying I look manly in a skirt?"

She twined her arms around his neck. "You look so manly, if I wasn't pregnant already, I'd get pregnant tonight."

His grin was irresistibly naughty. "Plan on using up a few of your wishes, are you?"

"Depends," she said, "on whether you're wearing anything under that kilt."

George laughed and kissed her soundly. "You'll find out later." He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "Come along, lusty wench. Fireworks await."

"Promises, promises," she murmured, before saying, "And it's comely wench."

"You're both—a perfect combination," he said, "and unlike some men, I deliver on my promises."

She felt fluttery in a way that had nothing to do with their child. "I know," she said, with such conviction George halted and kissed her again.

The fireworks were spectacular.

.

* * *

A/N: The thought of Valentine treats was a huge inspiration this chapter. Yanks exchange pastel sugar Sweethearts Conversation Hearts with sayings like "Angel" and "Lover Boy." Brits give fruit flavoured, fizzy Love Hearts with sayings like "My Boy" and "Cheeky Girl." Personally, I think there might be some disturbing truth in the cartoon Futurama claim that the hearts are made of bone meal and earwig honey. :D When I got the brilliant idea for "Bittersweets", (yes, I'm rolling my eyes at myself) I wondered if anyone else ever had. Imagine my non-surprise (and annoyance) to google and find someone was already selling them! Despair dot com is where anyone interested will find tins for the dejected, dysfunctional, and dumped. I was relieved that they didn't colour them black or use acid lemon and sour grape flavours, although I did like their range from Banana Chalk to Fossilized Antacid and the sayings "DOG IS CUTER, AWFUL INLAWS and P.S. I LUV ME" inspired a few "magical" ones of my own. (snicker)

Fairlie Castle was based on Myres Castle, near Edinburgh. There's a website, myrescastle dot com, where you can see "Anne's Room," the Muggle version of the room where George and Alicia stayed, lol. The Fairlie name came from one of the previous owners. Interestingly, (to me, heh), another family that once made the castle home was Scrymgeour. Hmmm…I wonder if Jo ever stayed there.


	32. Best Laid Plans

They returned to London the next morning, although Alicia would have preferred to laze the day away at the castle. She and George had shops to open. Her mother was away at a lighting conference, and Caper scheduled to take the day off.

Alicia was standing behind the service counter, teacup in hand, when Zoe glided into The Light Fantastic. "When daffodils begin to peer...why then comes in the sweet of year!" the girl said exuberantly, placing an arrangement of flowers beside the till. Sighing, she stepped back to admire the host of golden daffodils snugly fitted into a wide mouthed vase. "I saw these, thought of that bit of Shakespeare, then you."

"Why? My life's a comedy?"

"No! A romance. _The Winters Tale _was relabelled."

Alicia said, "I don't remember the play from Muggle Studies—just the famous stage direction _exit, pursued by a bear_." She opened her eyes wide. "You didn't read the cards for me and foresee bear attack, did you? I'll avoid all zoos."

Zoe didn't giggle. She said, "Would you like me to do a reading for you?"

"Thanks, but no." Alicia made a face. "I've gone off Divination." She asked Zoe, "Have you gone off David, not think of your own romance?" She hoped not. Vicky's cousin and Zoe had seemed to hit it off so well. They both had owls!

"He's the one who's gone off me, I'm afraid," Zoe said sadly. "He took me to his rowing club on Valentine's Day!"

"For Sunday lunch?" That was odd.

"No, it was dinner and dancing. Very nice, actually."

"Then why would you think David doesn't fancy you anymore?"

"He didn't invite me back to his flat!" Tears welled in Zoe's eyes. "It's because of Elizabeth. I know it!"

It took a second to realise another woman wasn't involved. "Elizabeth, his owl?"

"She doesn't like me. I've tried to get along with her, but it's no use. She won't give me a chance and now she's driving us apart!"

Beyond her distraught friend, Alicia saw through the glass that a witch was approaching the shop door. Praying her mother never found out, she quickly cast an Aversion Charm. The woman turned sharply and marched away.

Zoe was crying openly now. "I don't want to steal him away. Why can't Elizabeth understand that?"

_B__ecause she's a bird brain_, Alicia thought. Saying that wouldn't be helpful, so she hugged Zoe. "Have you introduced Elizabeth to Orlando?" she asked. "If David's owl has company, she might not be jealous that he does too."

"No—but I could invite them over for dinner." Zoe wiped her eyes. "Would tonight be too soon?"

"Owl and find out."

When Alicia met Fleur for lunch and shared the story, her soon-to-be-sister chuckled over the thought of owling about owls. "What 'appened? Does Zoe 'ave a date tonight?"

"_Mais oui," _Alicia said with a grin. She glanced over the cafe menu. "I should have the grilled chicken with salad and fresh fruit."

"Should? Bah! Eat what you like! _Fais-toi plaisir! _Take your pleasures and diversions." Fleur ordered vegetable soup, chicken salad on a croissant, and ginger cake, saying, "Make it a large slice, _sil vous plait_. We will share."

Alicia gave into temptation and chose chicken salad on cranberry and pecan bread, with fruit alongside. "You never worry about gaining too much weight?" she asked. Fleur's face was softly rounded, her curves more pronounced, yet she seemed enviably content with her body.

"Nevair." Fleur shrugged elegantly. "If I gain ovair a kilogram each month, ze midwitch, she sees ze _bébé_ is healthy and does not scold me. Veelas gain, and zen zey lose. _C'est la vie_." She leaned closer. "Bill calls me 'is _tourterelle, _'is dove. Does zat mean I am plump like a dove?" She straightened proudly. "I am not—'ow you say—fussed. Doves are pretty!"

"If you're a dove, they're gorgeous," Alicia said. "Something I might hate you for if I didn't like you."

Fleur's eyes sparkled with laughter. "_Mille fois merci! _Thank you vairy much."

By the time the server brought ginger cake with clotted cream, Alicia was ready to broach a delicate subject. "About our dresses for the wedding..." She told Fleur about the dressmaker in Edinburgh who wove Illusion Charms into fabric. "Mrs. Fairlie ensured me Elspeth can spell-sew a wedding gown before March twentieth."

Fleur ate a bite of cake. "Is zat what you wish?"

Alicia set down her fork. "Yes. I want the wedding to be about me and George," she said. "We're having a baby—I don't want to pretend we're not, or have anyone think we're not thrilled about it. I just want, on that special day, for our joining to be the focus of attention. Is that selfish?"

"_Non_."

"You're my friend—almost a sister," Alicia said. "So if you want one of Elspeth's gowns I'll gladly order it. If you don't, I certainly won't mind if you stroll up the aisle looking like a model out of the Siren's Secrets maternity catalogue. I want you to be happy."

"I could 'ave been a model," Fleur said. "I turned down ze offer." Licking a dot of clotted cream from the corner of her mouth, her expression was appropriately catlike. "My 'usband desires to keep 'is view of my body exclusive." She pushed the dish of cake toward Alicia. "I will be happy to stand beside my new sister at her wedding as I am, _enceinte."_

They traded smiles before Alicia picked up her fork. "I have an appointment next week," she said. "You may regret recommending your midwitch. If I've gained too much I'm blaming you."

"_Mais oui! _Ze French are always to blame."

Alicia and Fleur were still giggling when the server returned to clear the table.

On the day of the appointment, the midwitch performed her examination and then used the scrying bowl to "see" the baby. Alicia stared raptly at the surface of the water, watching tiny eyes open and close as the baby sucked on a thumb. She wished George could have been there to see it.

"You have a very modest child," Midwitch Leach said humorously. "His or her legs have been together or crossed every time I scry. I'm still not able to tell the sex."

"I don't mind," Alicia said. "As long as the baby's healthy."

"Very healthy." The midwitch left Alicia to dress in private and then returned to sit facing her. "During your first examination, you were unsure as to the exact date of your last menstrual period, thinking it was near the end of August."

"Yes," Alicia said uncertainly. "I know you're supposed to keep track, but I always forget to mark it down."

Midwitch Leach said firmly, "I've suspected for quite some time that your calculation was off. This scrying has confirmed that your last period was more likely to have been the eighteenth, with the beginning of September as the date of conception."

_The first time she made love with George. _

"How can you tell?"

"The size of your uterus and the baby's measurements and development indicate that you're twenty-seven weeks along," the midwitch said smilingly. "So unless the baby decides otherwise, your due date is the twenty-fifth of May."

Most expectant mothers would have been overjoyed to learn they were further along than previously thought. Alicia wanted to cry. She remembered the tormented expression on George's face when she said the baby was due in May or June.

_June. It has to be June," he said harshly._

_"Oh gods, Fred—I didn't think, I'm so sorry!" Alicia's eyes filled with tears. "You're right, it has to be June."_

The memory caused her stomach to clench. As if in reaction, the baby kicked. She rubbed her abdomen. How could she tell George that their baby might be born near the anniversary of Fred's death? Alicia clung to hope. "Some babies go past the due date?"

"Certainly. Most women deliver anywhere between thirty-seven and forty-two weeks. A pregnancy is not considered post-term until after that time."

The midwitch named percentages and spoke about the possible complications in both preterm and post-term deliveries, but Alicia only half listened. Seven percent of babies were born after forty-two weeks! A first pregnancy increased those chances! Praise Merlin the due date wasn't set in stone. If George asked, she would tell him, but if he didn't...

"Do you have any questions?"

Alicia said the first thing that came to her mind, "When will my fiancé feel the baby move? He lays his head against my belly and hears the heartbeat with a Doppler Charm, but he'd really like to touch him—or her."

Midwitch Leach started nodding halfway through the question. "Soon. Within the next week or so, the baby will be big enough to be felt outside as well as in. To facilitate, lie down, perhaps drink a fizzy drink or orange juice—something with sugar—and the anxious daddy will feel a punch or kick."

On cue, Alicia felt the baby move.

_poke poke poke _

_Are you practicing for Daddy? _she thought. _You'll be as clever as he is one day._

She felt another inner thump and smiled.

As each day passed, George marked it off the calendar with a big, black X. At the end of the first week in March, he started filling in the entire square. He couldn't wait for the day of the wedding to arrive—so he could get it over with!

The mums were driving him round the bend with their wedding fever. They insisted he and Alicia visit every venue in London that had an opening, dragged them along to a Bewitching Bride Wedding Fayre in Devon, and held family dinners to feed them samples of food from caterers vying for their business. Everything from the attendants' dresses to the wedding favours had to be discussed at length and chosen only after extreme deliberation.

Anne and Molly were so intent on creating a "Dream Wedding" that they gave George nightmares. In one harrowing dream, they had burst into the honeymoon suite to inspect Alicia's lingerie to ensure it was "suitably sexy." He still shuddered to think of it.

By the time the Hall was reserved, the "fork buffet" menu set, and flowers chosen to complement the white and green colour scheme, he was ready to elope. During his stag party at the Bat and Bludger, when he had downed enough beer, George shared his feelings.

Lee doubled over with laughter. "Elope? With only a week until the wedding? Your mother would hex you!"

"No, she'd do something worse. She'd send a Howler." Bill clapped George on the shoulder. "Those things are like Furies. They hunt you down to the ends of the earth." His eyes took on a far away look. "You can be in a sheik's tent with a beautiful dancing girl, and at the very moment she's about to start dropping veils, in zooms the Howler, shrieking at you for worrying the family by not writing." He exhaled heavily and drained his tumbler of Firewhisky. "It's enough to make a grown man cry."

George had heard the story before. He rolled his eyes.

Percy, mellow from alcohol, chuckled. "Ruined the mood, did it?"

"I was speaking hypothetically," Bill said loftily. He promptly sniggered. "Killed it dead."

The lads around them mockingly expressed their commiseration.

Joey White nudged Kenneth Towler. "You'd rather elope too, wouldn't you?"

Kenneth's face turned red. "Shut up, Joey."

George glanced over at the man who _might _have given Fred a bit of competition if he had ever tried out for the position of Beater. "Is that why you haven't popped the question to Vicky? You're afraid you'll be forced to help plan the wedding?" He signalled the barman for another beer. "Be very afraid."

Bill said, "Don't listen to him. I was never expected to troll flower shops or help pick out bridesmaid dresses. Fleur knew whatever she chose was fine by me." He flashed a taunting grin. "Admit it, little brother. You _wanted_ to help."

A hush fell over the small crowd.

George said heatedly, "I _had _to help! If it wasn't for me, your wife would be waddling down the aisle looking like a pregnant stalk of celery. I'm the one who said mint green complemented everyone's skin type."

He took the pint of beer from the server and set it down in order to jab a finger at Lee. "Which would you rather eat? Beef stroganoff or fish curry?"

"Stroganoff."

George smirked. "That's what I told the caterer. Men like beef."

There was a rumble of agreement from those listening.

Percy said, "What kind of fish curry?"

"Thai. It's on the menu—" George broke off when he caught sight of the Patronus mouse scurrying in his direction. The message he received was shocking.

Percy said, "What's wrong? Is it Dad—Mum?"

George looked at Bill. "It's Fleur. Her water broke."

His indomitable brother swayed on his feet. "No. She's not thirty-five weeks yet."

Bill looked ready to Apparate, even though to do so after drinking increased the risk of Splinching. George quickly said, "Alicia's sending a Squire Cab to take us to the birthing centre." In the quiet that had fallen, the sudden squeal of brakes echoed loudly. "It's here," George said. "Let's go."

"I'll take care of things," Lee said.

"Thanks." George broke into a jog to catch up with Bill. Percy was right behind him. The instant after the cab door shut, the vehicle zoomed away from the kerb.

"Hurry," Bill said.

"Don' worry, mon, you'll be dere soon," the cabbie promised, magically squeezing through Muggle traffic.

Bill didn't respond. He stared out the window. "It isn't time," he kept whispering. "It isn't time."

His brother's numb disbelief struck a painful chord in George's heart.

_He isn't dead...he isn't dead._

When they arrived, Percy said, "You two go on."

Dreadlocks swung as the cab driver shook his head. "De ladies pay me already, mon."

Bill rushed into the alley. He shouted, "Bill Weasley to see Fleur Weasley!"

A door appeared in the brick wall.

Inside the birthing centre, a mediwitch in pale green robes waved her wand over Bill, casting a spell to enable him to pass into a warded corridor.

George and Percy turned toward the waiting room. Alicia, Penelope, and their parents stood together near the door, talking quietly.

His mother caught sight of them. "Finally!" she exclaimed.

"How did you get here so quickly?" George asked. His eyes flew to Aicia. For her hen party, she had chosen to wear the periwinkle bluedress his sister-in-law once claimed would be perfect for _une femme enceinte. _Fleur was right; Alicia looked beautiful—and apprehensive.

"I called Caper," she said in a small voice. "He brought them here."

"You _called _him?"

"Elfish magic allows him to hear the madam of the house as well as the mister."

"In front of everyone?" _Tell me you didn't._

She bit her lip.

His mother cried, "So people know you have a house-elf! Who the bloody hell cares! Family is the only thing that matters." Her face crumpled. "That precious baby—"

"—is getting the best of care," his dad said, enfolding his distraught wife. "Don't worry so, love."

George closed the distance between himself and Alicia. Her eyes were shiny with tears. "You handled everything perfectly and I'm an arse. Forgive me."

She nodded as he wrapped his arms around her. "Always."

He rested his chin against the silkiness of her hair, closing his eyes to hide his conflicted emotions. It satisfied something deep within to hear her say "always," and yet he knew it was a promise she might not be able to keep.

Fred hadn't.

_Hey, _his brother's voice echoed sharply. _I said I'd always be there for you and I will. _

George blinked away the moisture burning his eyes. _It's not the same. _He held Alicia tighter—and felt a tiny nudge against his middle.

"Did you feel that?" Alicia whispered.

He slid a hand between them and pressed lightly against the spot where the baby had moved. Something—a little heel, or fist—pushed back.

"I feel it." George looked down at Alicia. "If we were someplace private, I'd pull up your skirt so I could see the baby move."

Her lips curved. "Just to see the baby move?"

He smiled, appreciating her sense of humour. Before George could respond, he heard his mother gasp.

"Apolline!"

Madame Delacour glided into the waiting room. She kissed his mum on both cheeks. "Molly! Zank heavens you sent Caper to us! 'Ow ees Fleur?"

"We're still waiting for news."

Monsieur Delacour shook Arthur's hand. "We must 'ope for ze best."

"Yes, Louis. Of course. She's getting the best of care."

George wondered if his dad was reminding himself of that as much as reassuring others.

The group turned as one when the midwitch entered. Grey-haired and serene, Midwitch Leach eased tensions with a smile. "Fleur and the baby are both doing well. Although her water broke, there have been no contractions, so we'll keep Fleur here, warding against infection and allowing the baby to mature."

Madame Delacour said, "Eet ees ze same as before? Uteree—"

"Uterine Irritability? No. Her body—for lack of a better phrase—acted spontaneously. These things happen."

George's fingers clasped Alicia's hand firmly. _Not to you, _he thought. _You're going full term._

In the back of his mind, a ghostly chuckle sounded. _Suddenly developed the Sight, have we? Send a note to Trelawney. She'll be thrilled.__The unbeliever has converted!_

Monsieur Delacour asked, "'Ow long will Fleur stay at ze centre?"

"Optimally, it will be a week before the onset of labour, at which time I expect mother and child to do fine. Now, if you wish to visit—"

Once the midwitch led the Delacours away to see Fleur, Alicia said, "I want Fleur and Bill to stand up with us at our wedding."

"It's impossible," his mum said decisively. "The Hall, the caterer, the florist—all the deposits are non-refundable!"

George looked into Alicia's eyes. "We had the honeymoon before the wedding," he said. "Why not the reception?"

Percy cleared his throat. "Be a shame for fish curry to go to waste."

"And the bridesmaids' dresses," Penelope said. "How often are those worn twice?"

"We could always have a family party a couple of weeks later, " George heard his mum say thoughtfully. "Our back garden is lovely in spring, isn't it, Arthur?"

"Certainly, and I'm sure the children would appreciate two Saturday excursions from school."

"What do you say to holding the reception before the wedding?" George asked Alicia. "Do you like the idea?"

She gave him a radiant smile. "I do."

* * *

A/N: _I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud, That floats on high o'er vales and hills, __When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils_... Zoe quoted Shakespeare, but I thought of the flowers resembling something out of a William Wordsworth poem—no longer beside the lake or beneath the trees, of course, lol. Since a fetal doppler monitor allows Muggle parents to hear the baby's heartbeat, I decided that Christian Doppler, the wizard physicist, would have the wizarding charm named after him as well. :)

If anyone wonders about Fleur's preterm labour, I found (on baby dot com) that "If your water breaks before 37 weeks but you're not having contractions, your medical team may decide to wait for the onset of labor (which could happen within hours or could take up to a week in the hospital), to induce labor, or to try to delay labor. In any case, you'll be given antibiotics to protect against Group B strep and other infections. Experts don't all agree on what to do in this situation. Waiting to deliver buys your baby more time to mature but increases your risk of infection." Since Fleur is under the best of wizarding care, (spells work so much better than antibiotics!) she gets to stay at the centre for a week, serving my plot, :D.

The somebunnies who reviewed the last chapter and made my week eggstraspecial were...**adrienne06052, alix33, Blue Leah, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl,cinroc, Creative Touch, DaphneD, Diana42, EllaAngel, ElspethBates, Fibinaci,Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie,hermioneron, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye,JasperisMYeverything, Kates Master, lady clark of books, LunaLiving9, mandymuggle, MBP, Meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime,PhoenixDreamer55,respitechristopher, Robyn Hawkes, Sivaroobini Lupin-Black, Slipknot-3113, smileyjarvis, Snuffles7, sophia666, SOphia.weasley, sqHPfan, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847,tambrathegreat, tiffyrose, Tina101, Twinsmom, and WEASLEYLOVER, WeasleyWeakness, and xoxphoenix. **


	33. Celebrations

As far as George was concerned, the reception was a complete success. The food was brilliant, the flowers elegant, not fussy, and his "bride" looked gorgeous—even though he thought she would have been equally lovely with the bump showing, instead of concealed by Illusion Charm.

_You forgot your collar, _"Fred's" voice reminded him. _Not too tight: that's definitely a plus._

"Absolutely," George muttered, raising his hand to his throat. The dress robes Fleur had chosen for her wedding had been uncomfortable as hell, causing Fred to vow never to bother with wedding "nonsense."

_And I was a wizard of my word...ironically..._

George thought it was tragic. Hot tears pricked the back of his eyes.

_Damn, brother, don't go getting melancholy._

"I can't help it," George whispered. He stiffened when the hand clasping his squeezed gently.

"What can't you help?" Alicia asked, smiling up at him.

_Rogering things royally _was the immediate, Fred, thought.

George shrugged. "I can't help wishing Fleur and Bill were here." He shook off his grim mood and sighed theatrically. "How inconsiderate of the miniature toerag to inconvenience us this way."

Alicia tried to give him a stern look, but her lips kept twitching. "You're calling our nephew a miniature toerag?"

He grinned. "And a cheeky little monkey, too."

_"What?" _a voice behind them said sharply. "What was that?"

His mother's tone prompted George to pull Alicia toward the centre of the reception hall. "Let's dance."

"You mean run."

"He who quips and runs away, lives to quip another day."

She giggled. "I thought your saying was 'he who jinxes'."

"Back at Hogwarts, it was." George chuckled. "Especially when the Slytherin Quidditch Team was involved." He slipped a hand slightly around her back while holding her right hand in a loose grip. When she placed her hand on his shoulder, he stepped forward.

Alicia followed his lead. "Waltzing to wizard contemporary music? How unique."

He winked. "Weasleys have always been trendsetters."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, indeed. My grandfather Septimus, for one. He was Bill's hero, a curse-breaker with style."

"He wore a ponytail and an earring?"

George laughed at the thought. "No, but he did wear a leather jacket." He paused, and then said, "and a very distinctive hat."

"Distinctive, how?"

He pictured his grandfather, tall and rugged. "It was Muggle, called a fedora. Granddad wore it pushed back on his head, with the front brim bent down to shield his eyes from the sun." His tone became nostalgic. "Granddad loved to tell the story of the Muggle fellow who came up to him and said he was going to immortalise him in fiction—an adventure novel."

"Did he?"

"Granddad never knew for sure, but years later, he noticed that a whole lot of Muggles started wearing his favourite style of hat."

"That's a wonderful story."

"Thanks." George heard the music change and slowed his steps accordingly.

Alicia threaded her arms around his neck as they swayed back and forth. "Our guests are watching," she said. "Do you think it looks funny, that there's space between us?"

"There's a baby." George splayed a hand over the abdomen he could feel but not see. "Everyone knows that, except maybe Aunt Muriel. Mum always did tell her as little as possible—said Auntie was too fond of giving unsolicited advice." His gaze travelled over Alicia, briefly admiring the roses in her upswept hair before lingering on her ivory, strapless gown. "You look beautiful."

She straightened the double rose boutonnière adorning his grey dress robes. "You look incredibly handsome." Alicia stroked his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "So handsome, the only thing I regret about not having the ceremony first is that I didn't get to kiss you."

George didn't need Fred whispering _Kiss the girl _to prompt him into action.

Her lips, soft and smiling, soon clung to his. Onlookers clapped.

George felt a tap on his shoulder.

"I would be honoured if you would allow me the privilege of dancing with my new daughter," his father said, beaming at Alicia. His mother stood beside him.

The music had shifted again. George narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "This isn't _disco, _is it, Dad?"

"Merely a love song that happened to be popular when your mother and I were newlyweds," his father said lightly, taking Alicia's hand.

George turned to his mum. "Want to dance?"

"Since you asked so graciously," she said. While they moved in a slow circle, she tugged his boutonnière a little to the left.

"Alicia prefers it to the right," he said, straight-faced.

His mum heaved a sigh, adjusted the roses and then realised he was joking. She pinched his earlobe. "Naughty boy." Her eyes suddenly welled with tears. "I love you so much, George. You don't know how much it means to me that you're happy."

He lowered his eyes to the orchids and roses of her corsage. "Thanks, Mum. I love you too."

Other couples had begun to join them on the dance floor. George manoeuvred his mother over to a pair that looked to be hugging more than dancing. He tapped the young man on the shoulder.

"Try somewhere else, mate. This girl's taken," Harry said, before Ginny's giggles made him look up—and hastily step back. "Oh. Beg pardon. Sure."

Ginny moved toward George, looking very pretty in her floor-length gown. All the bridesmaids wore their hair pulled away from the face and curling down the back. "You look all grown up," George said.

"Is that an observation or a compliment?"

"Both," he said, as a new song began to play. It wasn't just seventies. It was disco.

_Yahoo! This is your celebration!_

George looked for Alicia while twirling Ginny around. His "bride" was doing some sort of line dance with his father.

"The Hustle! Remember when Dad used to play Muggle records on that enchanted gramophone? He loved it when we'd dance with him! Let's go!" Ginny grabbed George's arm and started dragging him along, calling for Charlie, Percy, and Ron to join them. His brothers appeared less than enthusiastic.

Next to Charlie, Alicia's friend Bridget cried, "Please say you will!"

Charlie nodded, looking bemused but agreeable.

Hermione was nudging Ron toward the others. "I've never danced this before," she said. "Will you teach me?"

Ron grinned like a jack-o-lantern. "Me, teach you something? I'm there!"

George glanced over at Percy. He was shaking his head.

"Come on, Percy. Your whole family's doing it," Penelope said. "I want to dance with them. Don't you?"

George saw a strange expression flit across Percy's face. Was it bitterness?

The sight of Angelina and Blaise strolling across the parquet floor with Katie and Lee distracted George from asking about it. He waited until the couples lined up next to him and Ginny to say over the music, "What would your Slytherin pals think if they knew you were line dancing, Zabini?"

Moving with a fluidity George knew he didn't possess, Blaise said, "They would think I uphold the honour of Slytherin House."

"Snakes like to dance," Angelina said teasingly.

"So do lions." Lee pumped a fist in the air. "_Gryffindor!"_

A spirited cheer arose.

Alicia walked down to join them. "Your mum cut on in on me," she said. "I'm in need of a partner."

"Take him, he's yours," Ginny said. She glanced around. "Have you seen Harry?"

"He was heading for the punchbowl the last time I saw him," Alicia said.

Ginny immediately wandered off.

Another oldie, sung by The Goblin Kings, began to play.

_Golden years, gold, whop, whop..._

Most continued to do the hustle, but George preferred to dance freestyle. He wasn't able to pull off some of the moves Blaise and Lee made look easy, but he could tell Alicia was impressed. Her face wreathed in a smile.

At the end of the song, George was about to ask if Alicia would like to take a break and grab a drink when he saw a silvery Patronus bound into the room.

"That's Bill's," he said, clasping Alicia's hand and tugging her to follow the ghostly lion as it padded to a stop before his father, who listened closely and said, "We'll be there as soon as possible."

"Fleur's in labour and it's progressing rapidly," his father announced, blotting his face with a handkerchief.

That confirmed what George had suspected. He winked at Alicia. "Told you he was an inconsiderate little toerag," he said in an undertone, before raising his voice. "Mrs. Spinnet!"

"Yes, yes," she said. "I'll take care of things."

If anyone thought it odd that most of the "wedding party" left en masse, they kept their comments to themselves. The mediwitch staffing the reception desk at the Fae Birthing Centre was equally silent. After blinking in surprise at their attire, she pointed toward the waiting room, nodding when his mum asked that Bill be notified of their arrival.

The Delacours greeted them eagerly. "I weesh we could 'ave attended your reception," Gabrielle said, her eyes darting to Harry.

Molly smiled consolingly. "There will be another one," she said. "It won't be as grand, but it will be held at the proper time—after the wedding."

"Unless something else suddenly comes up," George said, stepping behind Charlie to use him as a human shield. His Mum looked ready to spit fire.

"Nothing had _better _interfere with my plans," she growled.

Safe behind his brother, George smirked. "Don't you mean my and Alicia's plans—or are you and Dad renewing your vows?" He laughed to himself when his mother sputtered, until he felt a pinch.

"Be nice," Alicia whispered, patting the arse she'd just pinched.

"Keep that up and I will," he shot back.

She pressed closer—and ran a hand over his arse. George grinned.

"Ahem," said a voice from the doorway. "If anyone's interested in hearing about the baby..."

All heads turned.

Bill smiled so widely, his scarred face had to hurt, but George could tell his brother experienced no pain. He glowed with happiness. "We've named him Louis...and he's got red hair."

George was unprepared for the feelings that ripped through him. Dark thoughts from when Bill first told him Fleur was pregnant came back to haunt.

_A new Weasley to replace the one they had lost: how bloody wonderful._

He went through the motions, adding his congratulations to the others. His throat ached so badly, a bottle of Firewhisky wouldn't numb the pain. It was unfair to his family, but it was how he felt.

Once the grandparents returned from visiting Fleur and the baby, Bill invited George and Alicia to come to the birthing room. "Louis wants to meet his godparents."

George knew why Fleur wanted Alicia as godmother. They had become close friends, and Alicia would be a loving and supportive role model for any child. He, on the other hand, would likely be a bad influence. What in Hades was Bill thinking?

Since it wasn't an appropriate time to question his brother's decision, George held his tongue and followed his brother out of the waiting room. He stood numbly as the mediwitch performed sanitising spells, listening with a feeling of detachment as Alicia and Bill chatted about the baby.

When they neared the birthing room, Bill said, "Go on in, Alicia. I think Fleur wants to talk about the delivery without squeamish males listening. We'll join you in a few minutes."

George waited for her to slip into the room before saying, "Neither of us are squeamish males."

"True."

"Then why are we out here? Is there something you want to tell me?" _You've changed your mind about me being the godfather? I don't blame you. I'd probably scar the kid for life._

"Yes." Bill took a deep breath and said, "We want to name the baby Louis Frederick."

* * *

A/N: I could say happy times always seem to go by quickly, but the chapter didn't exactly end on a fluffy note, so it wasn't reader imagination, the chapter is shorter than usual. It also only has one pov, and was posted Friday night instead of Friday morning. Feel free to blame Blaise and Angelina, who lured me away to finish the last chapter of **Chasing Angelina. **Those who have read it know the Zanzibar chap is lengthy, and those who haven't are cordially invited, ;).

All that's known of Septimus Weasley is his name, so I had fun making him Bill's hero whose dashing appearance inspired a Muggle writer and eventually the creation of a classic film character. For those of you dear to my heart for enjoying random-yet-meaningful trivia, :D, B. Traven was a German/American writer who wrote the 1927 novel _The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, _which was later made into the Humphrey Bogart film that inspired George Lucas to suggest Indiana Jones wear a fedora. Herbert Johnson hatters in England made the fedoras for the first three Indiana Jones films.

Anyone who heard Sebastian the Crab when they read _Kiss the girl _can "sing with me now…Sha-la-la-la-la-la…" (although I do a better Ursula 'Poor Unfortunate Souls')I couldn't resist making Arthur play Kool and the Gang's _Celebration, _or have George pull a Will from A Knight's Tale and impressing Alicia with his moves to David Bowie's _Golden Years. _(Bowie played the goblin king in the film Labyrinth, hence the band name, heh) As for having Fleur and Bill's first child be Louis instead of Victoire, at the time I started this story, Jo hadn't scrawled her "family tree" onto paper yet. I was trying to be canon compliant by not bumping Victoire's birth up a year. Why bother naming her father and the kid Louis now? I still like to be canon as possible, although this story is now **Post Epilogue Revelations Disregarded. **(when not convenient to plot, heh)

The readers whose reviews of the last chapter were not disregarded, because I loved them too much, were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AmazingBouncingFerret445, udreyLovesRemus, BandonBanshee, Blue Leah, btyrhrtout, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Chibi angelle, cinroc, Creative Touch, DaphneD, ElspethBates, Falln4DarkAngel, Fibinaci, fireflyofhell, flutterby162, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, hermioneron, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, Jellyjade Bean, Kates Master, lady clark of books, Legallyblonde79, LunaLiving9, Machiavelli Jr, mandymuggle, MBP, Meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs. Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, Phaetona, PhoenixDreamer55, RahNee, Robyn Hawkes, siriuslycoco, Slipknot-3113, smileyjarvis, Snuffles7, sophia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847,tambrathegreat, The-Unknown-Halliwell, tiffyrose, Tina101, Twinsmom, vintagejgc, WEASLEYLOVER, and WeasleyWeakness.**


	34. What's in a name?

George couldn't speak. He looked away from his brother's hopeful gaze, one word echoing bleakly in his mind.

_No._

When the silence became awkward, Bill said, "If you'd rather we didn't—if you're thinking of choosing Fred for your child's name—Fleur and I will name the baby Louis Arthur. It's up to you."

George didn't know if he could bear a future where Fred's name was called, but it wasn't his twin who answered. It hurt too much. He cleared his throat, hoping Bill didn't realise how close he was to breaking down. "Louis Arthur is a good name."

"His granddads will think so." After a pause, Bill said, "Want to see him?"

_Not really. If he's flame-haired like every other Weasley, I might just lose it. __Cry like a mental case. _George forced a nod. "Sure."

Bill opened the door and strode in. "Is Louis Arthur asleep?" he asked. "I want him to meet his godfather."

It was a nice move, telling Fleur subtly.

Alicia, sitting in the chair beside the bed with the baby in her arms, beamed. "Louis Arthur is a splendid name. Sounds like a future Minister for Magic!"

"I 'ope better for Louis," Fleur said laughingly, "But eef—_if_—'e decides on zat, we will support him."

George moved to the bedside and leaned down to kiss Fleur's cheek. "Motherhood becomes you, _ma soeur_, my sister."

She kissed him on both cheeks in return. "Go hold your godson, _mon frere_."

He didn't want to, but there was no way to avoid it, with Fleur pushing his arm and Alicia rising so he could take her chair...and the baby. "All right," George said, "If someone shows me how to support his wobbly noggin." It had been a long time since he held a baby.

As Alicia transferred Louis to the cradle of George's arms, Bill said dryly, "Are you calling my son a noggin-head?"

George latched on to the excuse not to look directly at the baby. "Course not. He's a Weasley. Born to genius."

"Louis is also a Delacour," Fleur said with mock haughtiness.

"Then he's beautiful, too, poor—" George glanced down and felt his jaw drop. It wasn't the dark blue eyes gazing up at him from a tiny, angelic face that struck him dumb. It was the baby's hair.

"Doesn't he have the most gorgeous strawberry-blond curls?" Alicia said, running a finger across downy strands.

Inside his head, George heard Fred snort. _Strawberry-blond my arse! That kid has pink hair!_

George fought the urge to laugh. He'd been so worried that the baby would look like a typical Weasley. Look like Fred. Relief washed over him, along with a wave of affection for his nephew. "Don't worry, Louis," he whispered conspiratorially, "Uncle George will teach you all the hexes and jinxes you need to survive first year." Grinning at the thought of his Veela-handsome nephew fighting off both the girls and the male rivals who would target him because of his looks, he bent to kiss the baby's forehead. "I'll send special _care packages, _too."

A sniffing sound brought George's eyes to Alicia. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she smiled. "You look so sweet together." She placed her hand on the side of her abdomen and rubbed. "I think our baby's jealous."

"She shouldn't be," he said with a wink. "I'm just practicing."

"_She?" _Fleur gasped. "You know ze sex of ze bébé?"

"No," George said, "I didn't want to say 'it' or be sexist. People always say he when they don't know—have you noticed?"

Bill and Fleur shook their heads.

Alicia asked, "Do _you_ hope it's a girl?"

He hadn't considered the matter before, but now that he thought about it... "Frederique," George murmured, imagining a little brown-haired daddy's girl.

"Frederique? Zat would go so well with Louis! Zey would be ze closest of cousins!" Fleur face lit up with her enthusiasm. "Kissing cousins, yes?"

_"No," _Alicia, George, and Bill said together.

"Kissing cousins are more or less distant relatives," Bill said, coming over to take Louis from George's arms. Diminutive lips had begun to root around for nourishment his Uncle George couldn't provide.

"Much less if your last name's Black. They were notorious for marrying first cousins," George said. "No wonder Sirius had twelve toes."

Fleur's eyes widened. "Extra toes? And your family is related to ze Blacks?"

"Yeah." George stood, pretending to try to see the baby's feet. "Louis have any extra digits?"

"Only one," Bill deadpanned.

Fleur made a sound of protest in her throat. "No 'e does not! Louis is _parfait_—perfect!"

The baby let out a small wail. Every adult smiled.

_Kid even cries beautifully. _George could almost see Fred shaking his head in mock disgust. _Girls are going to chase him all his life...jammy little git._

Alicia stroked the baby's cheek with a fingertip. "We'll go and tell the others to wait before visiting so you'll have time to feed the baby."

"_Merci beaucoup_," Fleur said absently, preparing to nurse.

George saw Bill frown and quickly steered Alicia out the door. In the corridor, he theatrically wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. "Whew! Good thing we escaped before the breastfeeding demonstration started."

Alicia giggled.

George waggled his eyebrows. "D'you think Bill wasn't keen on Fleur exposing her breast, or a bit jealous that Louis will spend more time there than he will?"

His "bride" looked at him thoughtfully. "You're a father-to-be. What do you think?"

His eyes dropped to her bodice. "Both," he said ruefully.

Soft fingers caressed his jaw. "Don't worry. I'll keep a receiving blanket nearby for modesty, and always reassure you that what I experience with you and baby are very different types of intimacy."

George gathered her into his arms. "How will you reassure me?"

Alicia's smile spread into something enchantingly alluring. "Like this." She lifted her head to kiss him.

He returned the kiss hungrily, deepening the embrace. He lost himself in the caress of her lips and the softness of her body. It was passion and comfort entwined.

_Like your tongues._

George smiled against Alicia's mouth. He didn't know why the "Fred" comment had sprung to mind, unless it was to keep him from letting his hands roam even further. He chuckled. It was frustrating, trying to feel her arse beneath layers of satin and silk. He had been tempted to hike up her skirt.

"What's so funny?"

He told her—minus the "Fred" detail.

She blushed. "Would you have done it?"

Intrigued by her breathy voice, he asked, "Would you have liked me to?"

The pink on her cheeks deepened. "If no one would see..."

"There you are!" his mum called from the far end of the corridor. "There are others waiting to see the baby!"

"Send them down if they don't mind a hex from Bill," George called back. "Fleur's feeding the baby."

"He's your father all over again," Molly said in an exasperated tone. She waited for George and Alicia to come closer before adding, "Breastfeeding is perfectly—"

"Natural," George said. "Yes, men get it. It's the _au naturel _part we don't want anyone else staring at."

"Oh." His mum looked surprised, as if she'd never considered that explanation before. "Oh my." She put a hand up to cover her mouth. Her shoulders shook. After a few seconds, Molly blew out a breath. "I'll go tell the others." She turned on her heel and abruptly spun back around. "Are you two leaving? We'll see you tomorrow, then, when visiting hours start." She gave them each a hug before marching briskly away.

George looked at Alicia. "See what kind of family you're marrying into? They interrupt us on our honeymoon!"

"A honeymoon at home?" A smile played at the corners of her lips.

The phrase struck George like a lightning bolt. "That's it!" he cried. "Honeymoon at Home! Take the variations on our Queen for a Day charm Caper and I've been working on and sell them year round!" He started to laugh. "Marriage and vow-renewals not included."

-

Alicia loved to hear George laughing. It made her heart smile. "What variations?" she asked curiously.

George glanced around. "Outside," he said, offering her his arm. She hid her amusement. Did he think one of the mediwitches would sell his secrets to Zonko's?

Once they left the birthing centre, he cried out, "Caper!"

The elf Apparated without noise. "Yes, Mister?"

"Wait a second," George told Alicia, before drawing Caper to the side to give him instructions.

Alicia tried to hear what was said, but the two spoke in an undertone even a wandless Amplifying Charm couldn't make audible.

After the house-elf bowed and Disapparated, George said, "Let's take a Squire Cab home."

"Instead of Apparating? Where will we find a cab at this—"

The squeal of brakes cut off her question. Alicia inclined her head toward the vehicle stopped at the end of the alley, broadcasting Reggae music. "Caper?"

George led her to the cab. "There's a reason he's employee of the month, every month."

When the vehicle jerked away from the kerb, Alicia deliberately fell against George. "Your smirk is adorable," she said, not attempting to sit up straight.

His lips twitched. "Is it?"

She leaned toward him. "Sexy, too."

He captured her mouth, kissing her in a way she would never have dreamt of doing in a cab before George made it seem like the most natural thing in the world. She sank her fingers into his hair and wriggled closer.

"Ninety-three Diagon Alley!"

The cab driver's cheerful announcement snapped Alicia out of her lustful daze. Stars, she'd practically crawled onto George's lap! Blushing furiously, she lunged for the door handle to avoid eye contact with the cabbie. It was one thing to feel amorous and quite another to make a show of it! She made a beeline for the front door.

Behind her, George thanked the cabbie.

Alicia was thankful to escape into the shop. She stood in the dimly lit interior and took slow, calming breaths.

She jumped when hands grasped her waist. "Were you in a hurry to get me alone?" George shifted her to face him. "If you're embarrassed, don't be. I'll bet couples have done more than kiss in that cab."

"You think so?"

"We would have, if the ride had been a little longer."

Alicia scrunched her eyes shut. "Oh, gods."

She felt soft kisses pressed to her eyelids. "Hey, I was joking," George said. "I still do that, from time to time."

"I know." Alicia peered up at him. "And I wanted to do more than kiss."

He grinned. "Come upstairs."

She held his hand in a tight clasp. "Are we testing out a Honeymoon at Home?"

George was smirking adorably again. "Not just any old honeymoon," he said. "A _special _one."

Anticipation made butterflies flutter in her middle. At the same moment, the baby kicked. Alicia rubbed the spot. _Pay no attention to Mummy's racing heartbeat, _she thought. _Go to sleep, love. _"So we won't be in a French fantasy?" she asked when they reached the first floor.

"No." George gestured for her to enter the flat. When she stepped inside, he said in low, silky voice, "We're in _Romania_."

Alicia's breath caught in her throat. Illusion had turned their home into a dark castle. Enchanted torches flickered upon stone walls adorned with tapestries. Turkish rugs were splashes of crimson on black and gold marble floors. Sculpted wood and stained glass windows completed the aura of opulence.

She looked down. In the place of her wedding gown was a white peasant blouse and an embroidered red skirt—not traditional, modest bridal attire by any stretch of the imagination. "Is this bodice cut low enough for you?" she said, trying not to giggle. Alicia blinked in surprise when the neckline instantly lowered. "George!" she tried to scold, whirling to face him. He looked so mouth-wateringly handsome in formal black dress robes with a mandarin collar; she forgot what she was going to say.

He glided forward, his skin pale against the brightness of his hair and the darkness of his clothing. "I have waited an eternity for you," he said, cradling her face in his palms.

She willingly fell under the spell of fantasy. "I'm here now."

His mouth grazed her cheek, brushed her ear, as he traced its curve with his lips. "Are you mine forever?"

Her head lolled to the side, her hands clutched his arms. "_Yes."_

George took her earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently before kissing his way down her neck. She moaned when he lightly sucked her sensitive flesh.

"Tell me what you want," he said, touching her body in ways that made her ache and tremble.

"I want you…forever…." _I want your love._

"You have me."

Alicia wanted to ask if she had his heart, but she couldn't. He had to say the words the way he gave his passion: freely.

"Anything else?" he asked huskily.

She kissed him with all the pent-up emotion in her soul. "I want you, right now, on this rug."

Her insides turned to liquid fire when George began slowly raising her skirt.

* * *

-

A/N: Now they've acted out vampire fantasies of previous chapters and had _two_ honeymoons before the wedding! Lucky! (Napoleon Dynamite emphasis) I meant to get to the official wedding this chapter, but stuff happened. I won't go into details or raise a pen, like Scarlett O'Hara held up a fistful of Tara's soil, and make a writing vow not to let wedding-starved readers go hungry again—although next chapter will have wedding bells ringing, figuratively speaking. :D I will say that if you're called a noggin-head, the person isn't complimenting your intelligence. Also, anyone who started hearing Dave Matthews sing _Hike up your skirt a little more_ from the song Crash Into Me during part of the story is probably one of the same musical souls who heard Sebastian the Crab crooning last chapter, heh. Eclectic readers are a joy forever, as are those who are happy with quality even though they'd like quantity—i.e. a longer chapter—to go along with it! ;)

The readers who increased my joy with reviews last chapter were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, Alone All Along, AmazingBouncingFerret445, Blue Leah, Bookwyrm86, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cassandra's Cross, cinroc, Creative Touch, Dracosnewgirl, ElspethBates, Falln4DarkAngel, Fibinaci, flutterby162, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, hermioneron, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, JasperisMYeverything, Lady Clark-Weasley of Books, (nice addition to your name!) mandymuggle, maraudernumba5, MBP, Meeh-san, mirandaranda, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs. Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, RahNee, Robyn Hawkes, sarenelsoria, Siriusblack18, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Snuffles7, S0phia weasleysophia666, sqHPfan, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, SunshineSpray, tambrathegreat, tiffyrose, Tina101, WEASLEYLOVER, WeasleyWeakness and x.0.gossip.x.o.**


	35. Something Borrowed, Something Blue

The Romanian Castle version of the Queen for a Day Charm lasted twenty-forty hours, yet Alicia knew her memories of the "Honeymoon at Home" would always remain vivid. She and George had danced in a mirrored ballroom illumined by hundreds of floating candles, played a sensual game of hide-and-seek in a dungeon, and slept in a bed fit for a king—or a vampire and his bride.

It was hard to ease back into a normal routine, but a cup of English Breakfast tea, a fluffy omelette prepared by Caper, and a lingering kiss goodbye from George helped ease her return to the workaday world. When she entered the shop Monday morning, Alicia went straight to the office. She found her mum leafing through a sheaf of invoices.

"Hullo, Mum," she said, "Thanks for taking care of things at the reception."

"It was no trouble." Her mother gestured to the newspaper lying on the desk. "Your nephew is exceptionally handsome."

Alicia took the paper and flipped through the pages to find the birth announcements. "Louis is even more beautiful in person," she said, gazing down at his photograph. "He's so soft and warm. And the way he smells..." She sighed deeply. "I can't describe it as anything other than _baby _and it's absolutely amazing. I wish there was a way to bottle it; I'd wear it as perfume."

"I remember that smell," her mother said wistfully. "Your father said you smelled so good he could eat you up—and then frightened the mediwitch by telling her there was ogre blood in the family."

Alicia gave a huff of amusement. "She had to know he was joking."

"Not after meeting his mother."

Vague memories of a large-boned witch with pointy canine teeth and frizzy hair came to mind. "Granny Spinnet couldn't help the way she looked!"

"No, but she didn't have to say she had a large roasting pan to use as a bassinet when we visited!"

Alicia pictured a mediwitch staring, horrified. "Granny had a wicked sense of humour."

"I was bequeathed her roasting pan, if you want to continue tradition and use it as a bassinet."

Startled laughter burst from Alicia's throat. "You're not saying—"

"Yes, your father put you in the roaster and took a picture. His humour was dry, but just as wicked as your Granny's." She smiled. "You looked adorable clutching a stalk of celery."

"Edible, too," Alicia said. "Why didn't I ever see that photograph?"

Her mother shook her head. "It was the type of picture you stick in a box on the top shelf of your wardrobe with photos of you dressed up as Lady Godiva, not the sort displayed in an album."

It was disturbing to imagine her mother wearing long blonde hair and nothing else. "Lady Godiva for a costume party?" Alicia asked hopefully. A body stocking and a curtain of spelled-on tresses were a lot less traumatising to visualise than a set of naughty pictures.

"The Diagon Alley Business Council gala. You were four and cried when we left because you wanted Daddy to keep playing 'horsey'." Her mum smiled nostalgically. "I'll look through the box tonight and find that baby picture."

"Thanks. I'd love to show it to George: give him a laugh."

"That's very important to you, isn't it?"

There was a note in her mother's voice that made Alicia wary. "His happiness? Yes, it is."

"Because you love him."

"Yes."

"And he loves you?"

Alicia squared her shoulders. He hadn't said the words, but every action... "Yes," she said confidently.

Her mum's tense expression relaxed. "I'm glad," she said, her eyes starting to shine. "Your father and I wanted you to find someone to love you as much as we did."

Alicia throat clogged up. Sniffling, she brushed away tears with her fingertips. "Merlin, Mum. You can't say things like that to a pregnant woman. It's like turning on the waterworks!" She went around the desk to hug her mum. "Not that I don't love you for it."

An amplifying charm carried the jingle of the bell on the front door into the office. Zoe's voice travelled with it. "_Hullooo!_"

"Hullo!" Alicia called back. She kissed her mum on the cheek and went to talk to Zoe. "I saw you and David dancing at the reception," she said. "You two looked like a pair of love birds."

Zoe burst into tears.

Alicia reached up to pat a willowy shoulder. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It—it's Elizabeth."

"What has she done now?" Alicia changed to rubbing her friend's back, hoping the soothing motion would help restore calm.

It had the opposite effect. "Last night she tried to claw my eyes out!" After several noisy sobs, Zoe said, "Your idea to let Elizabeth and Orlando keep each other company worked too well. Now she's _twice _as jealous of me!"

"Oh, dear," Alicia murmured. Over-emotional owls—who would've dreamt?

Zoe let out a wail. "My relationship with David is _ruined!_"

"No, it isn't."

"It isn't?" Zoe looked down at her expectantly.

"_No,_" Alicia said with assurance gained from dealing with her own romantic challenges. "You just need to win Elizabeth's friendship."

"How? I share my darling Orlando with her and she still treats me like an owl pellet!" Zoe cried. "What more can I do?"

Owl pellets were indigestible matter like bone and fur, regurgitated. Alicia hid a smile over the melodramatic phrasing. "A Cheering Charm might make her content with the situation," she said. "If it doesn't, a _Familiariter _spell is sure to put you _on friendly terms_."

When Zoe looked doubtful—probably inwardly debating whether or not using magic on an avian was unethical—Alicia gave her one last pat on the shoulder. "Think about it," she said, and moved away to do something non-stressful: dusting.

At lunchtime, Alicia stood in line at a crepe stand, drinking in the savoury and sweet aromas. Bacon and cheddar; spinach with tomato and mushrooms; goat cheese with lashings of pesto and sun dried tomatoes; apple crumble; lemon and sugar; banana and toffee sauce with double cream: her stomach rumbled as she considered the choices offered.

The old man who made the crepes chuckled at the number she ordered. "You really are eating for two, aren't you, luv?"

"I'm feeding four, actually," she said, counting Louis as well as Fleur.

The vendor added two lemon and sugar crepes to her order, free of charge.

Fleur ate her share of crepes with gusto, laughed merrily when Alicia told her about the old man's kindness. "'E thought you were 'aving triplets!"

"Stars," Alicia said wryly, glancing down at her ever-expanding middle. "Am I that huge?"

"_Non. _Twin-sized at ze most."

Alicia crumpled up her serviette and tossed it across the small table.

Fleur held up her hands to deflect the wad of linen. "_Pardon moi, ma soeur_, I am joking," she said, gesturing to her own abdomen, "although I 'ave no right to tease. Eet 'as been almost two days and still I am—how you say—out of shape." She exhaled noisily. "Maman regained her figure within 'ours of giving birth, but I 'ave not." She bit her lip. "I begin to worry I should 'ave ordered zat Illusion Charmed dress for ze wedding."

Alicia began to wonder how Veelas ever made friends with other women. On top of beauty and glamour, they lost baby weight without trying! She shook her head. If Fleur ever wanted Louis to have friends outside the family, she'd better not share the story about magical weight loss with the other mothers in his future playgroup.

"Bill thinks you're perfect just as you are," she said, blinking away the mental image of her sister-in-law hexed with cellulite. "Focus on being healthy and you'll have no cause to worry."

"_Oui_—" Fleur broke off when a young mediwitch rolled a portable cot into the room.

"Their vision isn't supposed to range past thirty centimetres, but three infant girls started crying when I took Louis out of the nursery," The mediwitch said with a smile. "Coincidence? I'm not so sure."

Fleur cast a quick spell to sanitise her hands. "_Merci beacoup de ton aide, _Jessica—thank you for your assistance, minding Louis while I showered and had lunch."

"It was a pleasure." Jessica's blue gaze twinkled. "All babies are called angels, but Louis—I had to check for wings."

Fleur cradled the baby to her chest, rubbing his back and kissing the top of his head. "One day, _fiston, _little son, you will fly without wings, on a broom." She turned to Alicia. "Our beautiful children will fly together!"

As though he was standing beside her, Alicia heard George say, _if you give her a chance, I think you'd be friends. She has a good heart._

Yes, Fleur did, and if in the future jealous witches tried to hex, Alicia would stand beside her sister and ward off cellulite spells—except maybe one, as a public service to non-Veelas everywhere.

-

As the day of the wedding approached, George experienced none of the "cold feet" some grooms went through. He didn't wonder if he was making the right decision; didn't fear that after marriage sex would become scarce or routine; didn't even feel the urge to go out and have one more night on the town as a "free man". Whether it was because he and Alicia were living together or because they'd held the honeymoon and formal reception before the ceremony, he already felt married. A piece of paper wouldn't make him more committed to being a good partner and father.

George was so content and relaxed about the whole thing, he was surprised when Alicia entered the shop at closing and baldly announced, in front of Caper and two customers, "Muggles have _wedding rehearsals._"

"They do?"

He could imagine Fred rolling his eyes. _Try to fake a little interest, _his "brother" chided. _Ask another question!_

"Where did you hear that?" George asked, as if he really wanted to know.

"The nail salon." She held out her hand. "I chose a French polish."

"Pretty," he said, before realising Alicia was waiting for him to respond to her earlier statement. "That's...interesting," George said. "Be sure to tell Dad. He'll be fascinated."

Alicia's lips trembled. "Rehearsals ensure the wedding runs smoothly."

"I wish I'd had one," the woman at the counter said dolefully, her sagging jowls adding to her glum appearance. "No one knew quite where to stand and my sister ended up too close to the candle—"

"Which one?" the second customer, a sprightly old wizard, interrupted to ask. "Fire or Air?"

"It was white, like the dried baby's breath in her nosegay." The witch shook her head, folds of flesh wagging sadly in counterpoint. "No one leaps to catch a flaming bouquet; they shoot water spells and hit everything but the target."

"White signifies Air," the wizard said authoritatively. He raised a shaky finger. "Better have one of those rehearsals, boy."

Alicia was giving George a doe-eyed look. "Please?" She transferred her entreating gaze to Caper. "You'd help contact everyone, wouldn't you? Apparate with them if needed?"

Round green eyes began to glow with elfish zeal. "Yes, Madam."

In the back of George's mind, Fred sniggered. _The customer is always right!_

Two hours later, the group assembled in the kitchen of the flat unanimously agreed that they were ready to begin the rehearsal.

"Blaise and Kenneth and I will go stand outside the joining circle," Katie said brightly.

Lee cleared his throat. "Stand on opposite sides," he said, "so we can get more of a feel of being encircled by witnesses."

"All the votive candles placed on the floor in a large circular pattern aren't enough?" Angelina asked, straight-faced.

Lee smiled sheepishly, and said, "No."

Katie left the kitchen, giggling.

George handed Lee a white pillar candle in a glass candleholder. "Too bad this isn't green."

Lee made a face, but didn't deny he'd acted out of jealousy. "Place it on the column that's on the east—on the same side as the front door. Got it."

While Lee was exiting, Alicia picked up a crystal jar of seashells in water and offered them to Angelina, who nodded. "Water—west—I remember."

George lifted a marble bowl filled with lapis, amethyst, and turquoise stones off the counter. He wanted to smile at Bill as he held out the symbol of Earth, but he couldn't. Thoughts of Fred were a vice around his chest, crushing his former good humour.

Bill gripped George's shoulder as silent understanding passed between them. No one could take Fred's place, but Bill would stand beside his brother proudly.

After Bill took the symbol of Earth to place on the north side of the lounge, George didn't watch Alicia hand Vicky a red pillar candle on a brass stand. He had to look away to keep his composure.

_Yeah, _he could almost hear Fred say gruffly, _only girls cry at weddings._

"Are you ready?" Alicia asked.

Her voice sounded funny. George said, "I'll go take my place inside the circle if you'd rather. I only thought, because Dad had to work—"

"It's not that," she said in a choked voice. "It's just, I always thought my dad would escort me and—and he's gone, and I can't help it. I miss him so much!" Tears streaming down her face, she whispered, "I'm sorry. I know it hurts that Fred's not here. I'm sorry." Alicia buried her face in her hands.

George didn't need a little voice in the back of his head to prod him to action. He closed the space between them and enfolded her in his arms. "They know we miss them," he said, trickles of moisture slipping down his cheeks. "They want us to be happy."

"I am happy," she said, throwing her arms around him. "Sad thoughts don't change that."

He held onto her like a lifeline. "I feel the same way."

-

On his wedding day, standing with Alicia in the back garden of the Burrow, with their attendants making an inner circle around the symbols of Earth, Fire, Air, and Water and their family and friends creating an outer circle of witnesses, George changed his mind about joining ceremonies. They weren't about making a relationship "legal" or putting on a show. Weddings united lives.

A man and woman uniting their lives to create a new family, witnesses uniting to celebrate joy: he had never appreciated the depth and meaning until now.

The celebrant wrapped a white silk cord around their upraised, clasped hands. "Handfasting is a symbolic binding together of two people that have come to make of two lives, one life." He looked expectantly at George.

_That's your cue._

Even in his mind, Fred spoke in the stage whisper of a best man prodding a befuddled groom. He smiled a little. "I, George, pledge to you, Alicia, that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night and the eyes into which I smile in the morning. I will cherish and honour you through this life and into the next. I pledge to be your husband from this day forward."

As Alicia spoke her vows, a gleam of gold drew George's eyes to the watch visible beneath the sleeve of his upraised arm: Fred's watch. Tears clogged the back of his throat. He'd wanted his twin to be there, if only in a token of remembrance.

At that instant, a quiet voice that George heard in his ear almost as clearly as his heart said, _I'm here. _

George felt slender fingers gently squeeze, reminding him that the ceremony was continuing. He took the Celtic wedding band Bill extended.

The celebrant said, "Let the constant circle of these rings be a symbol of the partnership you have come to celebrate this day. When the waters are rough, let these rings remind you of the ebb and flow of life. Let them remind you of the happiness you feel at this moment, and let the memory soothe your spirit."

A sense of wrongness gripped George. Alicia was smiling mistily, but he couldn't get over the feeling that the celebrant had left something important out. When he slid the wedding band onto her finger, speaking his line by rote, George suddenly realised what was missing. "I messed up," he told Alicia. "I didn't say it right."

"Ahem," the celebrant began, "You—"

"Say what you need to say," Alicia said.

The look in her eyes made it easy for George to add what had been missing in many ways. "Wear this ring forever, as a symbol of our _unending love _and intertwined lives."

Although he was dimly aware that behind him, his mother had burst into happy sobs, and around the circle, women were sniffling and blotting their eyes with handkerchiefs, George gazed steadily at Alicia, waiting.

She smiled through tears as she slipped the wedding band onto his finger. "Wear this ring forever, as a symbol of our unending love and intertwined lives."

With a smile that spread into a grin, George didn't wait for the celebrant to bless their union or pronounce them man and wife. He stepped forward and kissed his bride.

-

* * *

A/N: I never cry at 'real' weddings but fictional ones have me searching for a box of tissue. Funny, really, when most people I know are "characters", heh.

In this chapter, a thought and a Google led to a blog praising Crème de la Crepes in London. I found the site and happily used the descriptions of their wares for the crepes in the chapter. If anyone finds himself or herself in London on a Friday or Saturday, the distinctive pink and black cart is opposite Southwark Cathedral, on Green Dragon Court, next to the paella stand. Have a "Cheeky Monkey" (nutella and banana) and tell me about it so I can enjoy it vicariously. :D

George's "good heart" statement came from chapter ten; a reader who may or may not have blue eyes inspired the name of the mediwitch. Although Bill and Fleur's wedding seemed like a wizarding version of a Church of England ceremony to me, I'm sure wizard joinings are just as diverse as Muggle ones. I created mine out of Celtic rituals and vows and previously used elements in other stories (ch 40 Simply Irresistible, ch 49, A Tale of Two Matchmakers and Butterfly Summer). Research never goes to waste. ;) For American and Canadian readers, no, I didn't misspell "vise". I just used the UK spelling, which hasn't retained the medieval distinction between the tool and the sin. :P

On a musical note, if anyone heard John Mayer sing 'Say what you need to say' at the end, I did too after I wrote the line. It made me even more teary-eyed, although when I hear the song on the radio it irritates me with its repetitiveness. As for the chapter title, wizards don't have the same traditions as Muggles, but when I thought about the ending, the phrase fit.

The readers whose reviews of the last chapter were a perfect "fit", inspiring me to persevere to finish this one were...** 40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, Alone All Along, AmazingBouncingFerret445, blacksleeves, Blue Leah, boopotter, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cassandra's Cross, cinroc, Creative Touch, Dracosnewgirl, ElspethBates, Falln4DarkAngel, Fibinaci, ginnylovesharry07, GraceRichie, Gutter and Grace, hermioneron, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, infinity, JasperisMYeverything, Kates Master, Lady Clark-Weasley of Books, LunaLiving9, mandymuggle, MBP, Meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moontime, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, RahNee, Robyn Hawkes, Siriusblack18, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Slipknot-3113, Snuffles7, sophia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, tambrathegreat, tiffyrose, Tina101, vintagejgc, WeasleyWeakness and x.0.gossip.x.o.**


	36. A Little Bit of This, Little Bit of That

_George said he loves me! In front of everyone, he said he loves me!_

Overwhelmed by happiness, Alicia stood passively while George kissed her. Only when he began to pull away did she realise that their first kiss as husband and wife was about to end before she'd begun to enjoy it! She immediately curled her hand around the base of George's neck and leaned against him, pressing her lips to his.

She felt his chest shake with silent laughter as the kiss lengthened and guests began to chuckle. It only increased her joy. _I want to make you as happy as you've made me._

George's hands slid down her back to the curve of her waist. He pulled her closer, making a contented sound deep in his throat.

Another noise sounded disapproving. "Hem, hem."

Alicia opened her eyes to ask George dazedly, "Who invited Umbridge?"

Among the witnesses, sniggering broke out.

Her grinning husband turned to the celebrant. "You're not related to Dolores Umbridge, by any chance?"

Owlish eyebrows seemed to take flight toward the celebrant's hairline. "Indeed not!"

"Good man," George said, offering Alicia his arm.

The celebrant's robes rustled like ruffled feathers. "Ahem! Don't you wish me to present you as husband and wife?"

George winked at Alicia. "I reckon they know by now."

She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. "I'd still like to hear it." She returned his wink. "Have something traditional for a change."

He sighed dramatically. "If you insist." George nodded to the celebrant. "Pronounce away."

"I shall," the old man said dryly. Clearing his throat, he said in a ringing voice, "I present you, George and Alicia, as husband and wife. May you always remember the love that brought you here on this day, and may your union be blessed."

In an undertone, he added, "This is where I'd say 'you may kiss the bride', but you've already taken care of that part."

Alicia looked at George.

He swept her into his embrace, leaning her back over his arm in a romantic gesture that had laughter and cheers joining the clapping from the witnesses encircling them.

When he set Alicia upright, George kept an arm around her waist as family and friends gathered to congratulate them. Molly was the first in line, throwing her arms around them both in a hug. "Such a beautiful ceremony! Such a blessed day! A new daughter and soon a new baby added to the family. I'm so happy—for all of us!"

Anne was next to offer congratulations. She kissed her daughter's cheek, whispering in her ear, "Now the rite is duly done; now the word is spoken, and may the love which made you one ne'er be broken."

Hearing her parents' vows caused Alicia to feel a pang of sorrow. Her dad would've loved George. She hugged her mum tight. "_Tá grá agam ort_._"_

Arthur stepped up, beaming. "I'm blessed to have daughters who are lovely inside and out."

The rest of the family and a steady stream of friends followed him to give their best wishes and congratulations. After all the witnesses had been had greeted with a handshake or a hug, George asked Alicia, "What's that I heard you say to your mum? _Taa graw aggam orret?_"

"I said, 'I love you' in Gaelic." Alicia looked into his eyes. "To you, I'll always say, _Tá mé i ngrá leat—_I'm in love with you."

"_Taa may ee ngraw lat_," he repeated huskily.

Her heart turned over. His accent was off, but the sentiment was perfect. She kissed him.

A hand tapped her arm. "Save it for the honeymoon, mate." Angelina stood with Blaise at her side, smiling widely. "We need to slip you into something more comfortable."

George cocked an eyebrow. "I thought that sort of thing was meant for private viewing only."

"Get your mind off garter belts," Angelina said teasingly. "That dress she's wearing is a work of art, but since the spells make it a little too form fitting. I—" She cut her eyes to Blaise. "_We _bought Alicia a dress that's gorgeous and comfortable."

"You didn't tell me your wedding dress was uncomfortable," George said to Alicia.

"It's tight, that's all. I've gained a bit of weight since it was fitted." Alicia threw Angelina a cross look. "I wouldn't have told her if I'd known she'd bring it up!"

"I'm glad she did," George said. "I want my wife able to breathe!"

Alicia's chest swelled with indignation. "I can breathe just fine!"

A smile flitted across George's face. "So I see."

The mischievous twinkle in his eye sparked her sense of humour. Alicia's lips twitched. "I'm afraid to try to sit down, though, so I'll go change." She smiled at Blaise and Angelina. "Thank you for such a considerate...and welcome...gift."

Angelina said, "It's in the house, upstairs."

Alicia hooked Angelina's arm with hers. "Come help pry me out of this dress."

"Isn't that my husbandly duty?" George smirked.

Blaise said, "Not until your wedding night."

"Was that a joke?" Alicia heard George say as she and Angelina walked away arm in arm. "Slytherins who make jokes upset the natural order of the world."

Blaise asked, "Is that a bad thing?"

Before the women strolled out of hearing, George said, "No."

Alicia and Angelina traded smiles.

In George's old room, it took Angelina several creative expletives to work the back zipper. "You weren't kidding when you said I'd have to pry you out of this!"

"I've never been skinny," Alicia said wryly, "but you're making me feel like a whale."

"You're preggers, not fat." Angelina let out a whoop as she triumphed over the zipper. "Yes! Now let's change your look from goddess of spring to goddess of fertility." She removed a gown from the wardrobe.

Draped and sweeping, the silk chiffon with satin accents was a fantasy of a dress. Alicia guiltily wondered how much the gift had cost.

Angelina brought the gown over. The fabric seemed to float. "It has twist ties that accentuate your curves, a sash you could make a bow..." She helped Alicia into the dress. "I'd tie it at your side so the ends will trail goddess-y, like so." She tied the sash and shook the folds of the skirt. "The puddle train is spelled to remain white no matter what you drag it over: grass or garden gnomes."

"You're right. I _feel _like a goddess," Alicia said, gazing at her reflection.

"Not fat?"

Alicia reached out and tugged a wisp of hair that had escaped her friend's elegant upsweep. "Making fun of a pregnant woman? You should feel lucky I didn't have a braid to pull."

It was a shock to see dark eyes fill with tears.

"I do feel lucky," Angelina said thickly. "I thought I'd never be happy again and I am, but—" She wiped the tears away almost angrily. "I should shut up."

Alicia wrapped her arms around her friend and squeezed. "No. I understand. George and I are happy, but we have sad moments, too. My father—Fred—times like this make you miss them even more." She exhaled raggedly.

"Brilliant," Angelina said. "I've made the bride cry. Your mum and Mrs. Weasley will hex me."

"They'll never know. We'll use complexion charms and add this to the list of secrets we're taking to the grave."

Angelina gave a watery laugh. "Like the time Fred dared George to go skinny dipping and we snuck down to the lake to find they weren't there?"

"Yes, only this time we won't risk hypothermia to prove girls rule by having a swim ourselves!"

They grinned at each other.

Angelina said, "Remember when we heard rustling in the underbrush and ran to get dressed? You should ask George if that was him and Fred, peeking at us."

"I can't. I promised eternal silence."

"I release you from your vow."

Alicia's skin tingled. Angelina had cast a nonverbal charm. "Thanks," she said, meaning it two ways. She concentrated on a spell to return the favour.

Outside, Alicia found her husband standing in the centre of a large group that was discussing Quidditch. He was pointing at the sky. "Unseasonably warm, few clouds, no wind. We could have a pick-up match today if it wasn't..." His words trailed away when he caught sight of her.

It was spring, not summer, yet Alicia had the fanciful notion that she was the Queen of May and George her Robin Goodfellow. _Lord of Misrule and my heart, _she thought.

George stepped forward. "You—the dress—you're beautiful."

"Thank you. And I'm a lot more comfortable."

He rubbed a hand across her abdomen in lazy circles. "Weasleys don't like being restricted."

Alicia felt a kick. She said, "I think our baby agrees...and wants Daddy to play Quidditch."

"Yeah?" His face lit up, and then fell. "No. You can't fly, and I don't want to leave you behind."

Touched, she clasped his hand and brought it to her lips. "You won't leave me. I'll be right there, waiting." Alicia looked up at the blue sky. "It's warm, there's no wind, and I'd love to watch you play Quidditch." She leaned close to say, "Nobody swings a bat better."

The corners of George's mouth turned up. "True." His eyes flickered over the guests. "Although _some _may believe otherwise."

Was he referring to Kenneth? Alicia thought George's competitive streak was cute. "Team Weasley against all comers?"

George looked tempted.

Ron, standing close by, said, "We don't have enough gear in the shed."

"I have equipment." Blaise's statement brought smiles of anticipation to the faces of those listening.

"I have a friend who's ace at long distance Apparation," said George. "Caper—"

The house-elf materialised, summoned by the sound of his name. Along with a black linen tea towel, he wore the magician's top hat from the shop. "Yes, Mister George?"

George filled him in on the situation.

Caper bowed. "I is honoured to help."

"Here's my card," Blaise said. "In case you run into security."

"Caper will not be seen." The elf Disapparated.

George plucked the silver embossed card from Blaise's fingertips. "Will this get me a free beer at Harpies matches?"

"No, but if you ever need assistance, you'll have my direction." Blaise's fleeting smile flashed white against mocha skin. "Free beer will be in the owner's box."

Ron frowned as though he didn't approve of George being chummy with a Slytherin, but when he spoke, all he said was, "I want to play Beater."

George said, "It isn't an easy position."

"I'll work hard," Ron said. "Learn as I go. You won't regret it."

Were they having a brotherly conversation within a conversation, talking about the shop as much as Quidditch? Alicia gently squeezed George's fingers. _Give him a chance!_

He ran his thumb across the back of her hand. "All right."

Ginny's voice rang out, "I call Seeker." She threw Harry a provocative smile. "Would you like to make a side bet on who catches the Snitch?"

Harry nodded as though mesmerised.

Alicia bit her lip to hide her amusement.

George leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Would you like to make a side bet on whether or not Harry will be a target for Bludgers?"

What kind of bet did he have in mind? A naughty one? Alicia nodded as though mesmerised.

George's eyes gleamed in amusement.

Behind them, Percy said, "If Harry's the other team's Seeker, who'll be our Keeper? I have to play Chaser with Bill and Charlie because I'm not a good enough flyer to block Quaffles."

"Dad," George said.

Percy looked startled. "Dad's too old. He'll never do it."

George grinned. "Want to bet on it?"

An hour later, Alicia stood outside a paddock with Fleur, Angelina, Penelope, Bridget, and Hermione, cheering as Arthur and his children took on Blaise, Kenneth, Joey, Vicky, Katie, Lee, and Harry.

Bridget, in her artless way, asked Angelina, "Why aren't you playing? You're the professional!"

"I'm insured against injury," Angelina said. "The only time I'm allowed to play Quidditch is when I'm fulfilling a contractual obligation."

"Oh. Too bad."

"I don't mind," Angelina told Bridget. "I like the view." She applauded when Blaise blocked a goal.

Alicia watched George zoom across the makeshift pitch. "Yes. He's very scenic."

The group burst out laughing.

Fleur patted Alicia on the arm. "I zink Bill is vairy scenic too."

Hermione gasped. "Ron almost knocked Lee off his broom!" Her tone was admiring. "He's so strong."

A few seconds later, a baby's wail pierced the air, turning heads toward a circle of older men and women. Apolline Delacour moved away from the others, little Louis in her arms.

"_Mon petit chou!" _Fleur cried.

The baby's cries tugged at Alicia's heartstrings. He sounded so pitifully hungry! She sighed in relief when Fleur took the baby and sat beneath a tree to nurse instead of walking back to the house.

Overhead, Ron Weasley's voice cut through the silence that had fallen. "OI! There's a match going on here!"

Chuckles filled the air.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said dreamily.

"Oh, Charlie," Bridget said as the match resumed. "I wish he'd chase me like a Quaffle." She twined one of her blonde curls around a finger. "Although I want him to do more than score." Her eyes rounded. "Oh dear, did I say that out loud? Beg pardon."

Alicia smiled. "I'm sure every woman feels that way about a special man."

"Eventually," said Angelina, her eyes on a black-robed Keeper.

"I'd rather it be sooner than later," Bridget said pensively. "It's hard to catch someone when you're chasing them long distance."

"Then go to him," Angelina said. "Take a chance. Happiness is a goal only you can make."

Bridget brushed a tear from the corner of her eye. "That's a lovely saying."

"Our new management posted it on the board in the changing room when they took o—" Angelina's eyes flew to Alicia. "You don't think—"

_"Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends,_" Alicia said, sotto-voice.

Penelope, who had been watching the game raptly, let out a squeak of excitement. "Look! Ginny and Harry are neck and neck!"

Even as Penelope spoke, Ginny edged forward to capture the Snitch. Cheers filled the air.

Bridget asked, "Do you think he let her win?"

Alicia glanced up to see the couple in question hovering close together on their broomsticks. When Harry and Ginny kissed, she said, "I think both sides claim victory."

George dove down and pulled up sharply to land beside her. His hair was ruffled, his face alight with pleasure. "Want to fly a lap around the paddock?"

She took his outstretched hand. "I'd love to."

They glided slowly, floating only a couple of metres above the ground, kissing.

* * *

A/N: George and Alicia didn't have a traditional wedding, so I couldn't give them a traditional reception! If any reader wondered how I was going to juggle an end-of-March wedding with George's April first birthday, until I wrote the chapter, I planned to give Alicia the reception pov and then move on to George's for his birthday. While writing, I decided, in the words of a band called The Offspring, _you gotta keep 'em separated. _So this chapter is fluffy, and the next one...well...you'll see!

The chapter title I took from a Michelle Branch/Santana song Game of Love with lyrics that fit love and Quidditch. _It just takes a little bit of this, a little bit of that...It started with a kiss, now we're up to bat._

Alicia's dress I found on the Isabella Oliver website. It's the Belle Epoque wedding gown. I could imagine Alicia in it (and imagine a sales assistant thinking about Angelina, sure it's for your _friend.) _:P 'OI' and 'Oh, Ron,' were inspired by a scene from DH that better not be left out of the final HP film, if WB doesn't want Ron/Hermione shippers rioting in theatres. :D

Some stories end with weddings, but this one has a few more issues and chapters to work through—four chaps after this, in fact, unless a plot bunny bearing chocolate attacks me.

The readers whose reviews last chapter were sweeter than chocolate and calorie free (although not guilt free since I couldn't update soon, sigh) were...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, AmazingBouncingFerret445, AshCarroll aka ShadowDiva, blacksleeves, Blue Leah, BobbieJo1, btyrhtout, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cassandra's Cross, Charity, cinroc, Diana42, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, Her My Own EE, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, infinity, JasperisMYeverything, Kates Master, Lady Adrienne Faery, Lady Clark-Weasley of Books, LunaLiving9, mandymuggle, MBP, Meeh-san, MollyCoddles, Moonlight, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, Nymphadora17, obliviate36, PhoenixDreamer55, RahNee, Robyn Hawkes, shortySC22, siriuslycoco, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Sivaroobini Lupin-Black, Snuffles7, SOphia.weasley, sophia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, Tabbycat1220, tambrathegreat, tiffyrose, Tina101, Twinsmom, WEASLEYLOVER, WeasleyWeakness, x.0.gossip.x.o, and xoxphoenix.**


	37. Pictures of You

The festivities lasted well into the evening, with Quidditch, a limbo contest, and fireworks enlivening the traditional wedding activities. Thanks to Caper, food and drink always remained plentiful, and with George's promise of more gold, the goblin band was pleased to perform extra sets.

After a final round of dancing inside the spell-warmed tent and a champagne-inspired toast by Joey "to the best reception EVER," the bridesmaids distributed wedding favours to the guests. Inside each tiny white box fastened with mint green ribbon were five sugared almonds symbolising happiness, health, wealth, long life and fertility.

_You could've saved yourself a__ couple of almonds. _

George pictured Fred the way he'd been dressed at Bill's wedding, with the collar of his robes unbuttoned.

_It's obvious that fertility will never be an issue for you and Alicia!_

The smirk on George's face was unconsciously identical to the one he remembered his brother wearing.

_Chuffed about bein__g potent, eh? Better sniff every flagon of birth control for the rest of your days or you'll end up with more kids than mum and dad!_

There was a sobering thought. George put down his glass of champagne untouched.

Alicia took his gesture for a signal. "Time to throw the bouquet!"

"What about the garter?" Joey shouted.

George's eyes narrowed in warning. "It stays where it is, so if you want to catch something, stand with the girls."

"Okay." Joey stood between Bridget and his date, Leah from the Gnome and Jarvey, affably smiling at the catcalls and taunts about his feminine side.

Most of the single women stood well back from the three in front.

A ghostly snigger echoed in George's ear. _Not a lot of interest in being the next bride._

Alicia turned, holding her bouquet up. "Where should I throw it?" she whispered to George.

_Straigh__t over her shoulder. I want to see what Joey does with it._

George heeded the call to mischief. "Straight back."

She flung the posy of roses into the air.

Joey leapt up to catch the bouquet, snatching it with a cry of triumph. The moment his feet touched the ground, he gave the flowers to Bridget.

"Oh my gods! You're the sweetest man _ever!" _Bridget threw her arms around her friend, rose petals drifting to the floor as she gave him an enthusiastic hug and a kiss on both cheeks.

_T__he Delacours approve the European flair, no doubt, but Joey's date isn't too pleased._

Although a fight over the bouquet might be entertaining, it wasn't the way Alicia would want the reception to end. George plucked his champagne glass off the table and said after a Sonorous Charm, "I'd like to thank you all for sharing this day with us. Cheers!"

"_Cheers!"_

George steered Alicia toward the house as quickly as possible, considering that everyone seemed to want to say farewell. Finally, they made it to the lounge. "We're spending the night at the White Witch Bed and Breakfast in Ottery St. Catchpole," he said. "I don't expect it's posh or anything, but if you'd like I can take you round the village tomorrow: show you all the places I got into trouble growing up."

"I'd love it." She caressed his face. "I love you."

"I love you." He wasn't used to saying the words yet, but George liked the way they made him feel: happy.

His level of contentment plunged like a wonky Bludger when he stepped out of the Floo onto the hearth of the bed and breakfast's gathering room. It had a pastel colour scheme and bric-a-brac littering every surface. "It looks like Aunt Muriel's house, all chintz and lace with those doily things everywhere!"

Alicia had been examining a pink and white figurine of a mother holding a child that stood on the mantel next to a vase filled with pink roses. "It's clean and smells of chocolate biscuits. I don't mind the decor."

"Well I sure as—" George broke off when he heard a creak on the stairs to the upper floors. "Hullo," he said to the rosy-cheeked old woman entering the room. "Are you Mrs. Comfrey? I'm—"

"A Weasley, through and through. I'd recognise that combination of red hair and freckles anywhere. Such a pleasure to have you staying with us! I told my sister Mrs. Snidely—"

"Stop nattering on, Galinda. Can't you see he's in no mood to chat? The young man's his father all over again with that hair and impatience to get to the honeymoon suite." A tall, thin, witch with an almost greenish cast to her olive-coloured skin glided into the room from a side doorway.

"Your memory is failing, Elphaba. It was his mother who had such red hair." Mrs. Comfrey looked to George for confirmation.

He shook his head. "Hers is gingery."

"Oh. This way, then." Mrs. Comfrey bustled toward the stairs. Halfway up, she said fretfully, "There will be no living with her. My sister's such a know-it-all."

George said, "Actually, now that I consider it, my mother did use appearance charms to brighten her hair for several years."

"Oh!" Mrs. Comfrey's expression became cheerful. She waved a hand toward the first floor corridor as they continued to ascend. "When my parents were alive, the old honeymoon suite was directly below their bedroom. Since their passing several years ago, we've remodelled all the rooms and moved the suite to the top floor."

She escorted them into the spacious room. "Here we are, my dears. The private bath has a claw foot tub, there's a welcome basket on the reading desk, and of course I'll deliver a breakfast tray in the morning. Congratulations and good night!"

Alicia slipped her arms around George's waist when the door shut. "They went a bit overboard on the bridal theme—white linens, furniture, paint and draperies—but at least there's no chintz or doilies."

"It looks like a shrine to virginity," he said absently, gazing at the lacy pillows mounded against the headboard. "Did you believe what she said about remodelling the place?"

"Yes. The duvet is new. I saw a green satin one in a shop off Diagon Alley." Dimples flashed in Alicia's cheeks. "Why do you ask? Because you made up that story about your mother and worry Mrs. Comfrey returned the favour?"

Against his side, George felt the baby's elbow or knee. He put a hand to Alicia's stomach, gently pushing. "Yes. How did you know?"

The baby pushed back. George began rubbing. Beneath his breath, he hummed a lullaby. _Go to sleep, go to sleep, so Daddy can get Mummy naked without an audience._

"You're not the only one who's looked at baby pictures." Alicia said. "Does it matter?"

"It does if you saw the photos of Fred and me mooning Percy when we were four." George met her direct gaze and answered seriously, "No."

He had something more important on his mind. "Everything that matters is here in my arms," he said, cupping her face in his hands.

His lips feathered along her cheek and brushed the corner of her lips, playfully teasing. In response, Alicia melted against him. Her arms circled his neck while her fingers clutched his hair. The heat of her mouth and passion aroused a hunger George had never fully acknowledged before: one that was emotional as much as sexual. His need grew with every caress of her hands and tongue. He stroked her curves, feeling his heart pound and his senses heighten until all barriers fell away and love united two bodies and hearts as one.

* * *

The honeymoon glow put a spring in his step and a smile on his face that lasted until the Friday following the wedding, when George abruptly realised how close to the end of the month it was. Instead of finishing the day's paperwork, he sat in his office staring at the desk calendar. There was less than a week.

_Glaring at the bloody thing won't change the dates._

"Shut up. I'm thinking," George muttered.

A ghostly snort seemed to echo in his head. _A single word repeated over and over is hardly "thinking," especially when it's the one we used to get a soapy mouth jinx for using!_

George's teeth were on his bottom lip in preparation to repeat the word aloud when his mum walked through the open door. "F—fancy seeing you here," he said. "Are you meeting Dad after work or just shopping for more baby clothes Louis doesn't need?" He used his wand to levitate the stack of Daily Prophets the local wizard scout troop was keen to recycle for him off the visitor's chair and waved a hand toward the seat.

His mother set a yellow carryall embellished with a logo of a smiling monkey poking his head out of a turquoise flower onto the desk. "It's to hold the baby's things. Do you think Alicia will like it? Look at the name. Isn't it perfect?"

"Cheeky Monkey," George said, smiling. "Are you implying something?"

His mother reached into the carryall to bring out a brown stuffed toy. "The banana doesn't fall far from the tree?" She held out the monkey. "It's made of Egyptian cotton so there's no fluff to inhale."

"That's a relief. I heard babies who snort fluff become toddlers who stick beans up their nose—"

"Oh, hush, and look at this!" She draped a length of monkey-printed fabric across his desk. "It's a pouch for you to carry the baby in."

"Did you buy one for Bill?"

"Of course! His is French blue." His mum sat down and rummaged in her handbag for a tissue to blot the corners of her eyes. "I can't wait to take a photograph of my boys with their babies!"

George could. The sling contraption didn't look very sturdy. He didn't fancy looking like a kangaroo, either. "That won't happen for quite some time," he said. "Why don't you..."

_Take it back?__ Although I do like the cheeky smile on that monkey..._

"Surprise Alicia with the gifts?" She clapped her hands together. "Exactly my idea! How about next Thursday? I thought just a small, family—"

"_No_. I appreciate the thought, but I'm not up for it."

Her eyes became shiny. "We wouldn't have to have a cake, or sing. We could—"

"Get drunk and cry together?" George regretted the harshness in his voice, but the thought of celebrating a birthday without Fred was obscene.

His mother lifted her chin. "If that's what you want."

Only by clinging to the knowledge that she was trying to help—not be insensitive—kept George from reaching for the bottle Firewhisky he hadn't gotten round to clearing out of the filing cupboard. Part of him wanted to slam it down on the desk and say, "Why wait?"

_Do it. __I bet she drinks straight from the bottle._

George refused to take that bet. He didn't want to see his mum cry and refused to drown his sorrows. He was through running from pain.

Confrontation with his mother, however, was another matter. "I need to help Caper close shop," he said, rising to his feet. "Thanks for coming by."

"Yes, well, you've been on my mind." She stood and stuffed the toy and baby pouch into the carryall. "Perhaps I should return these—"

"Don't," George said. "I like the monkey, and any kid of mine's bound to be cheeky."

Tears slid down his mother's face. "I didn't always show it, because I had to discipline, but many times I've laughed over your ways." She took a shuddery breath. "When I think of how I called you and Fred cheeky monkeys—you knew it was in love, didn't you?"

George came around the desk to enfold her in a hug. "Yeah," he whispered, resting his cheek against ginger-coloured hair. "We knew."

Three days later, Bill strolled into the shop right before lunchtime.

"Looking for our baby's first gag gift section?" George said. "We don't have one—yet."

"Better move fast; it's a growing market." A hint of a smile twisted the scars on Bill's face. "I dropped by to see if you wanted to go out to lunch."

"Not if you're going to invite me over for dinner Thursday." He met his brother's steady gaze with one of his own.

"If that's how you feel," Bill said after a heartbeat of silence, "Then come to lunch so I can show off new pictures of my beautiful family."

George let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. "Okay, but first I have to tell you something, brother to brother." When Bill nodded solemnly, he grinned. "Even though you're handsome, only Fleur and Louis are beautiful."

The next afternoon, Lee dropped by the shop. George saw his old friend and said the first thing that came into his mind, "I didn't do it, no one saw me do it, there's no way you can prove anything!"

"Did that work with McGonagall?" Lee asked, striding forward, a wide smile creasing his face.

"No. She gave us detention on principle." George clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Flitwick, on the other hand, fell for it every time."

"He thought you and Fred should have been Ravenclaws because of your cleverness."

George smirked. "He did think highly of our Charms."

Lee's tone became nostalgic. "That swamp—I'll never forget the look on Umbridge's face—you two were utterly brilliant."

"Legends usually are."

Instead of the laugh George expected for his immodesty, Lee's expression became thoughtful. "Students still flock to that roped-off section. It's like a pilgrimage for first years. You and Fred really are legends."

"Does that mean you'll buy a round in my honour at the pub? Ace. Caper can close up shop."

Lee's eyes shifted away. "I made plans with Katie tonight. Are you free—"

"Thursday? No."

All of a sudden, Lee had no trouble meeting his eyes. "Right, your family..."

George didn't share that he'd turned them down, too. "Thanks for the offer, mate. I'll remind you of it when I see you at the Bat and Bludger."

"Next week," Lee said. "I'll owl."

"I'll be here."

On Wednesday night when he couldn't sleep, George rolled over to face his wife. "Alicia?"

In the darkness, he felt her body shift. "Mmm?"

"Why are you the only one who hasn't mentioned my birthday?"

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what you want to do. Whatever that is, I'll respect your wishes." Alicia took a ragged breath. "The same way I respected Mum's after Dad died."

She scooted closer until her abdomen touched his. George threw off the covers. He didn't need them with the baby acting as a Warming Charm.

"What did she do?"

"On Dad's birthday Mum worked in the shop like any other day, and then said she wasn't hungry and went straight to bed."

George smoothed Alicia's hair away from her face. "What did you do?"

"The same thing Mum did: cried myself to sleep." Her voice was thick.

"I'm sorry."

Her lips were soft against his cheek. "We got through it."

_You'll get through it too__._

"I don't want to _get through it_," George said, trying to keep the agitation out of his voice. It wasn't Alicia he was angry at: it was the universe. "I don't want a party, I sure as bloody hell don't want a cake, and I can't pretend it's just another day. I have to do something."

"What?"

George sat up. "Something for Fred." In the back of his mind, an idea sparked.

Alicia rubbed his back in soothing circles. "If I can help in any way..."

Had she made that offer to her mother? George wasn't going to make Anne's mistake and turn Alicia away. He used a nonverbal spell to engage the illumination orb beside the bed. "Will you help me write a few letters?"

"I'll gather parchment and quills and put on the kettle for tea."

George scooped up his trousers from the floor. "I'll go wake Caper."

* * *

On April Fool's Day, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes experienced record sales and an unprecedented number of owls delivering birthday cards from family and friends. George read each card before waving his wand to send it winging upstairs to join the others spread across the trunk in Fred's room.

In the afternoon, Alicia got off work early to help close the shop. George noticed she was toting a familiar-looking yellow carryall. "Mum couldn't wait, eh? When did she drop that off?"

"This morning." Alicia's smile was watery. "We got weepy and made my mum a bit jealous."

George had no clue why and wasn't about to admit it. "All set?" he asked Caper.

"We is ready." The moment George and Alicia put their hands in his, Caper Apparated.

Stonehenge at sunset was a breathtaking sight from their vantage point on top of the towering monoliths. "I have to admit," said George, "that I'm glad most Muggles aren't allowed direct access to the stones. They would've spoiled the view." Wispy clouds blew across an orange-streaked sky stretching out over the grassy plain.

Alicia, seated on the rock between George and Caper inside a circle protected with charms from the wind and cold, said, "I have something else for you to look at."

George had wondered if she'd brought along a present. He reached into the carryall and drew out a photo album. His stomach clenched as he placed it on his lap and opened the pages. Pictures of his mum holding twin babies with his dad, Bill, and Charlie grinning in the background made tears spring to his eyes. "I can't go through this now. I'll do it later, when we're home."

_When I can cry._

"There's another album inside."

"Pictures of you," George said, scrutinising the photos in the fading light. "Who took these?"

"My father. He had a...unique...sense of humour."

George smiled down at the baby placed in a cooking pot. "What's this about?"

"A nursery rhyme. _Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold, pease porridge in the pot_." She shrugged. "I was _nine days old_."

He replaced the album into the carryall. "Thank you—" He looked from her to Caper. "Both of you. One of the things Fred told me he wanted to do one day was stand atop Stonehenge." Gingerly, he climbed to his feet.

"You forgot something." Alicia held up a green bottle.

George took it with a crooked smile, lifting the beer in a silent toast before taking a drink. "Happy Birthday, Fred."

_Happy Birthday, George._

The sun began to sink below the horizon. When it was almost dark, Caper asked, "Where is we going next year?"

George mentally ran through all the replies he had received to the question of what Fred had said he wanted to do "some day." Raising his beer in a final salute, he said, "Egypt."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Drabble-sized author note ahead. :D

A/N: (Hums the theme to Raiders of the Lost Ark, imagining George in a fedora, Alicia in a bellydancer costume, while Caper and the baby wear matching fezzes. :D) Okay, right, save it for a future one shot and get on with the note...

I know, I know, last chapter I wanted to keep the wedding and angst separated and this chapter I use fluff as a transition...but even if it wasn't a woman's prerogative to change her mind, technically it's the _end _of the reception and a glimpse of the honeymoon in this one, so it's different. Really.

If any long time reader wonders if the goblin band mentioned is Gaelic Uprising from Simply Irresistible, the answer is aye, and you deserve _Suas Leis a' Ghaidhlig! (Up with Gaelic!) _T-shirts...or at least a coffee mug. :D As for the wedding favours, they (Bomboniere) originated in Italy and often coordinate with the flowers or bridesmaids dresses. I went for both. ;) The White Witch Bed and Breakfast I borrowed from another story, Matchmakers, in order to have three different couples enjoy Mrs. Comfrey's hospitality. I added the first names to be _Wicked_, and happily quote Shakespeare again to say, **So shall all the couples three, Ever true in loving be**…(at least in my versions of the Potterverse!)

There's a Cheeky Monkey maternity and baby gear store in London, but they've only been around since '04, so I say some Muggle found a discarded wizard logo bag and got inspired to create the very same products sold in the original shop. (Cheeky Muggles!) When Lee walked in, the Bart Simpson quote popped into my head, so I used it, even though I think George is more of a Calvin, heh.

I knew I was going to have Molly give George a photo album before I started writing, so I've been haunted by The Cure for weeks, hearing _I've been looking so long at these pictures of you, that I almost believe that they're real. _No other choice for a title, after that, even though I worked it in another way so I wouldn't be totally sniffing and getting teary over it. (not that that's a bad thing for a writer...or readers, either!)

The readers who fulfilled my hopes for review last chapter and who I fervently hope got a bit misty over George's way of continuing to share his birthdays with Fred are...**40/16, adrienne06052, alix33, Allacaya, Blue Leah, BobbieJo1, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cassandra's Cross, chibi angelle, cinroc, Dracosnewgirl, ElspethBates, Fibinaci, Freja Lercke-Falkenborg, GraceRichie, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, infinity, JasperisMYeverything, Lady Adrienne Faery, Lady Clark-Weasley of Books, mandymuggle, MBP, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, Nymphadora17, PhoenixDreamer55, Robyn Hawkes, Snuffles7, SOphia.weasley, sophia666, sqHPfan, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, tiffyrose, Tina101, Twinsmom, WeasleyWeakness, and xoxphoenix.**


	38. Rise Above This

After George's birthday, Easter holiday came and went without fanfare. Ron and Ginny stayed over at Hogwarts to continue revising for N.E.W.T.s, and Alicia's cousin Stacie remained at school to revise for O.W.L.s. The pleasant routine of work and spending time with her husband lulled Alicia into not counting the days as they slid by. When she received Fleur's lunch invitation with the morning post, it was startling to realise the date was April sixteenth.

"Louis is six weeks old," Alicia said to George. "How did time fly by so fast?"

"We were having fun."

The gleam in his eye brought an answering smile to her lips. "Last night you said we were upholding the reputation of newlyweds."

"And wasn't it fun?"

Alicia took the last piece of wholemeal toast off the centre platter and gave it to George so she wouldn't eat it. "Delicious," she said, adding two grilled apricot halves to his plate. Caper was a culinary genius, but if she overate, it would be impossible to splurge at lunch without guilt. Better to place temptation out of reach.

George looked amused. "You make it sound like we were drizzled in chocolate."

"There's an idea." Milk, white, or sweet dark—however would she choose? Alicia blinked away the scrummy image of George covered in swirls of chocolate. "I'd best send the owl and be off to work." She rose to kiss him goodbye.

"Will you and Fleur be doing any shopping?" George asked as she made to leave.

"Most likely," Alicia said. "Why? Is there something _special _you'd like me to pick up?"

He nodded solemnly. "Chocolate."

She hid a smile. "I'll be on the lookout for the highest quality, best melting, and most decadent chocolate available." When George grinned wickedly, she said, "Unless I get distracted and forget."

A red eyebrow arched. "Distracted by what?"

"Something able to rival sex and chocolate—for awhile, at least."

Alarm flickered across his face. "And that is?"

"Baby fever!"

Alicia laughed about it with George, but in truth, she did feel a fever of anticipation about seeing her godson. Louis was adorable, with the most expressive little face, and beyond that, he made it easy to imagine what it would be like to hold _her _baby.

It was a marvellous feeling. So wonderful, in fact, that when an embarrassing physical reaction followed the maternal warmth and tenderness, Alicia was hesitant to discuss the matter with anyone. What if they thought her attachment to Louis was unhealthy? Suggested counselling—or worse—asked her not to hold him anymore?

Business at The Light Fantastic was slow that day, so Alicia took the opportunity to drag out her pregnancy guide and do some reading behind the counter.

Involved in the text, she didn't realise Zoe was standing beside her until the girl said, "I didn't know breasts could get leaky before mums had the baby." She leaned in to read a bit more. "Oh. It's that pre-milk stuff. Colostrum."

"Yes." Alicia started to close the book.

Zoe pointed to a spot on the page. "Merlin, it can form a crust? Better keep those dry and wash twice a day like it—_ouch!" _

"Did I catch your finger? Beg pardon." Alicia shoved the book under the counter and picked up a feather duster. "The orbs need tidying."

It took a couple of seconds for Alicia's meaning to sink in. "_Oh! _Yes, all right, I'm on it." Zoe sent the duster floating toward the shelves. "Wouldn't want the stock to get crusty—I mean _dusty."_

Alicia brushed a speck of link off the front of her blouse. "No," she said wholeheartedly, "we certainly wouldn't."

At eleven-thirty, she left to meet Fleur at a café in a predominantly Muggle-section of London. _Au Bon Pain_ looked to be a place of good bread. Many of the customers were eating sandwiches. She found a table by the window and ordered a glass of lemonade.

After a few minutes of people watching, Alicia saw Fleur strolling down the pavement towards the café. Her sister-in-law was smiling and receiving smiles from those around her.

She wasn't pushing Louis in his Pegasus Pram.

Alicia sighed. The six-week check was for Fleur, not the baby. Bill or Molly was minding Louis at home. That was why Fleur wanted to meet at a restaurant. It was a girls' lunch out; that should have been obvious.

_Except to a pregnant woman with baby fever. _

By the time Fleur entered the café, Alicia had moved past disappointment to gladness. "_Salut!" _she said, "You're the picture of health and a vision in white." She kissed enviably slim cheeks. "Have I ever mentioned how I'd hate you if I didn't like you so much?"

"Many times." Fleur gave her a hug. "I am most fond of you, too, _ma chère soeur_." She patted Alicia's abdomen. "'Ow is my favourite niece or nephew today?"

"Not moving around much. Makes me wonder if the baby's sleeping or plotting mischief."

"Managing mischief in ze womb?" Fleur's peal of laughter turned several male heads in their direction.

Alicia sat and handed Fleur a menu. "Molly always says Weasleys are precocious."

"Zat is true. _Mon petit chou_ was smiling—true smiles—from birth."

Alicia didn't argue otherwise. George called the earliest smiles "gas alerts," but she wasn't so sure. Louis had smiled open-mouthed, with lifted cheeks and slightly narrowed eyes the very first time she held him: all indicators of a social smile.

In between bites of prosciutto mozzarella sandwiches, they discussed Louis' growth and development, the latest Prophet articles, Witch Weekly gossip, and the importance of pelvic muscle exercises both during and after pregnancy. Fleur passed on dessert while Alicia ordered two chocolate dipped strawberries.

"This reminds me I need to pick up some chocolate," Alicia said.

Fleur exhaled heavily. "I am determined not to indulge until I 'ave regained my figure."

Alicia's girth was ever expanding. She had no sympathy. "What figure, pre-puberty? And what happened to _take your pleasures and diversions_?"

_"Fais-toi plaisir." _Fleur squared her shoulders. "_Mais oui_. I am Veela. I am pretty at any weight!"

"Hear, hear," Alicia said, "And take one of my strawberries. I doubt there's more than thirty calories in it."

Fleur signalled their server. "_Café décafféiné _and two more strawberries _chocolat_, _sil vous plait_."

It was a toss up who enjoyed the treat more.

Alicia sucked remnants of chocolate off her fingertips, but the sounds of pleasure Fleur made caused the man at the next table to drop his glass and splash the contents onto his companion. He was still stammering apologies when Alicia and Fleur left.

"Are you on for shopping?" Alicia asked.

Fleur crossed her arms tightly across her chest. "_Non_. Louis needs me," she said, "and I need 'im to nurse. It 'as been 'ours since ze last feeding."

The uncomfortable, about-to-start-leaking, sensation was one Alicia sympathised with completely. "Give him a kiss from Auntie Alicia."

"I will. _Au revoir_!"

Alicia Apparated to Diagon Alley. She intended to go to the market for chocolate, yet found herself drawn inside the shop displaying a cheeky monkey on its sign.

There was so much baby gear to look at she felt like a bee buzzing from flower to flower, too excited by the choices available to settle on any one in particular—until she came across a set of tiny fabric shaped cones. There was a poem on the package.

**Changing a baby girl is not all glitz and glory;  
Changing a baby boy is an even bigger horror story.  
You hold his feet in one hand, and the nappy in the other;  
The whole time praying, "Please don't pee on your mother!"**

"Are you having a boy?" asked a clerk with "Diana" written beneath the smiling monkey logo on her nametag.

"I'm not sure, but I have a nephew."

"Pee-Pee Tents are cleaning spell savers," Diana said with a persuasive smile. "And circus blue is our most popular colour."

The pom-poms at the top of miniscule cones were too cute to resist. Alicia asked, "Do you deliver?"

"Free of charge, everything except nursery furniture."

Alicia glanced around the shop. "Furniture?"

"Upstairs," Diana said.

"I should get back to work..."

"The showroom is decorated like a jungle-themed nursery."

Who could resist? "I'll take a quick look around."

One glance was all it took for Alicia to fall in love with a round baby cot.

"Lovely natural pine, you can place it anywhere in a room, there's easier access to the baby, rear castors for maneuverability—" Diana drew in a quick breath and said, "I'll include the canopy if you like."

Alicia rubbed the netting between her fingers. "Will you take a draft?"

Diana would. While she rang up the cot and mattress and arranged for the packet of Pee-Pee Tents to be delivered to Shell Cottage, Alicia stepped outside.

Caper Apparated beside her a few seconds after she called his name. "Yes, Madam?"

"I have a favour to ask," she said. "I bought a cot—"

"Caper will deliver it, Madam!"

"Would you put it in the master bedroom...for now?"

His green eyes shone with kindness and understanding. "Yes, Madam."

Only consideration for Caper's dignity kept her from hugging him. "Thank you."

The rest of the day, Alicia could barely concentrate. She kept thinking about George, and how to start the conversation she'd been avoiding for weeks. There was no good way. Everything she came up with was crap.

It took an extra ten minutes to walk from her mum's shop to number ninety-three. Her feet seemed to drag the pavement. It was hard not to veer into Flourish and Blott's to have a chat with Vicky, maybe suggest they go have a drink with the Friday afternoon crowd down at the Gnome and Jarvey. Bridget and Joey had hugged a little too long at the wedding. Were they becoming more than friends? It would be interesting to see how they acted around each other.

Anything to put off the inevitable.

Resolve kept Alicia's feet on course. On impulse, she went into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and stood watching George assist a customer on the other side of the shop. His eyes were bright with enthusiasm, his tone low and confiding. He said something that made the old witch cackle with laughter and pinch his cheek.

Alicia burst into tears and fled.

_Merlin__, he looks so happy. How can I cause him pain?_

She stumbled her way around the building, too upset to notice that the door was open until her husband stepped outside.

-

"Alicia, what's wrong? Is it the baby?" George had been in the midst of convincing a nice granny that she would never be too old for Daydream Charms when he caught sight of his wife. He got a charge out of Alicia "watching the master at work," as she teasingly called it. It shocked him when her face crumpled and she rushed out of the shop. He called Caper to take care of Miss Rose and hurried through the employee corridor to meet her at the back door.

He drew her inside and held her close.

"The baby's fine. I—I'm a little emotional," she said, and released a shaky breath. "I didn't mean to ruin your sale."

"You're more important than Galleons." He ran a hand over her abdomen in slow circles. "You and the baby are priceless."

Teardrops streaked her face. "I love you, George."

"I love you." _But I don't think you're crying happy tears._

In the back of his mind, he heard a ghostly snort.

_What was your__ first clue, her look of utter misery?_

George hadn't done anything to make her cry—that he knew of.

_Make her a cup of tea. That __always worked for Dad to get Mum talking._

"I'll make you tea," George said. He led her to the stairwell and held her hand all the way up the stairs. It was a role reversal, Alicia clinging, in need of support. He was determined to be there for her the way she always was for him.

"Rose hips, lime blossom, or ginger?" George asked, using a spell to heat water in the kettle.

"Rose hips, please."

He picked out a teacup with a rose pattern and served the tea.

"Thank you," she said softly.

George took a butterbeer out of the coolant cupboard and waited for Alicia to confide in him. She stirred her tea long after the cube of sugar dissolved. Finally, she took a sip.

_Dad's trick doesn't seem to be working. Too bad you can't add a wee dram 'o whisky__ to loosen her tongue. _

Since she was pregnant, Firewhisky was out of the question. He reached for her hand. "Talk to me, I want to help."

Her fingers tightened around his. "I have something to show you first."

George didn't know what to expect when Alicia led him into the bedroom, but it wasn't a baby cot.

_Imagined__ naughty knickers and a fondue pot of chocolate, did you?_

If he had, Alicia was the one who put the idea into his brain. "Sex and chocolate" was a fantasy-inspiring phrase. George took a closer look at the cot. "It's round," he said. "Different. I like it." He chuckled. "Brilliant idea to hang Mum's monkey from the canopy."

Alicia looked ready to start crying again. "We should have made the decision together."

_Tell her she did you a favour.__ What bloke wants to go baby shopping?_

George said, "I'm not fussed about it." He tried to make her smile. "Now if you'd bought a racing broom—"

"You don't understand," she said almost desperately. "I've been trying to find a way to talk to you about the baby's nursery for ages."

She stressed "nursery" in a way that prickled the hair on the back of his neck. "You bought a cot, it fits our room, I'm happy," George said, and slid his arms around her. "Did you pick up any chocolate while you were out?"

He bent to kiss her. Alicia's lips tasted of tears.

"I meant to," she said. "The way I've meant to talk to you—"

A chill ran down George's spine. He tried to change the subject. "I'll pop down to the market," he said. "Is there anything else we need?"

"I'm not asking for anything right away," Alicia said, not taking his lead. "I know how hard it is. Dad's dress robes still hang in Mum's wardrobe. I understand wanting to hold onto things, and the baby will be small for a long time, there's no rush—"

"Fine. I'm off." George left the bedroom but couldn't escape his thoughts.

_Where did you think the kid would go if not my room?_

George took a step toward the front door, halted, and turned on his heel. He forced himself to walk into Fred's bedroom. He looked around at all the things that belonged to his brother.

_Remember Mundungus saying he "recovered" the furniture from a skip? I almost believed it. Chuck the stuff out__. I always planned to. _

That was the problem. Those were Fred's plans, and this was Fred's room.

George's chest ached. Tightness gripped his throat. Rationally, he knew keeping the room as it was wouldn't bring his twin back, but in his heart packing away the mementos of life would be losing Fred all over again.

George buried his face in his hands and cried.

-

* * *

A/N: _Call your name every day when I feel so helpless, I've fallen down but I'll rise above this, rise above this..._ The title of the chapter is a song by Seether (props to alix33 for hailing from South Africa like the band! :D). The video on youtube is a simple yet visceral depiction of how the loss of life affects a family. The singer lost his brother, which made me think even more of George, who I _intended _to deal with the anniversary of the battle in this chapter, but it didn't work out that way. _C'est la vie_...or in this case, fanfiction.

I based Au Bon Pain on a chain by the same name that has a café in Millbank, London, near the Pimlico tube station. I used items off their menu, and yes, a chocolate covered strawberry has only thirty calories…according to the site's nutritional info…:D. The Pegasus Pram I borrowed from an earlier story. (I heart readers who recognised it.)

Fleur may have thought Alicia was saying "here" as in "here on my plate," but _hear, hear_ as a phrase originated in British parliament, 18th century, as a contraction of "hear him, hear him." Alicia's usage was the classic acclamation. I didn't make the Pee-Pee Tent or poem up, I just changed the product's name from Pee-pee Teepee, and used nappy instead of diaper to better suit. I chose the OBABY round cot as a pattern for the one Alicia purchased. It's on the expensive side—around 300 pounds in a "premiere" West London nursery store—but isn't a Weasley worth it? ;)

The readers whose reviews last chapter were sweeter than chocolate and inspired me not to let another week go by without an update were...**40/16, adrienne.hope, alix33, Bandon Banshee, blacksleeves, Blue Leah, BobbieJo1, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cassandra's Cross, Chibi angelle, cinroc, Creative Touch, Diana42, (yes, I needed a name and liked yours. ;) ElspethBates, Falln4DarkAngel, Fibinaci, GraceRichie, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, infinity, JasperisMYeverything, Kates Master, Lady Adrienne Faery, Lady Clark-Weasley of Books, Legallyblonde79, LunaLiving9, mandymuggle, MBP, mischief-maker1, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, PhoenixDreamer55, RahNee, Robyn Hawkes, siriuslycrazy4snuffles, Sivaroobini Lupin-Black, Slipknot-3113, Snuffles7, SOphia.weasley, sophia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, The-Unknown-Halliwell, tiffyrose, Tina101, Twinsmom, vintagejgc, WeasleyWeakness, x.o.gossipgirl.x.o, and xoxphoenix.**


	39. A Time to Laugh, a Time to Weep

Alicia thought George had left—until she heard the muffled sound of weeping. Her heart ached. Mum had cried like George. So many times, Alicia had wanted to offer comfort, but when she tried, she found the door locked. Her mother's grief had been too raw to share.

She stared at the door handle. What if she reached for it and it didn't turn?

How would she cope with the rejection? To be shut out hurt so badly.

Her stomach clenched; the baby moved.

It wasn't a stretching of limbs or a playful nudge. It was a hard, sharp kick. Coincidence—or a message to stop fearing what might happen and take action? Either way, Alicia wrapped trembling fingers around the handle.

Tears spilled down her face when the door opened.

George stood with his back to her. He released a long, shuddering breath. "I can't do it," he whispered. "Not now."

In her nightmare, George had never allowed Fred's room to become a nursery. That he said "not now" gave her hope. Alicia slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his back. She closed her eyes and waited until her emotions were under control to say, "It can wait." She tried to smile so he would hear it in her voice. "We don't know what colours to choose or how to decorate, anyway, until we find out if baby's a boy or girl."

George's voice was husky from crying. "Yeah," he said. "There's loads of time."

There was if she delivered in June, past the adjusted, May twenty-fifth due date. Alicia hugged George tighter. "Let's not think about it," she said. "Let's go out."

"For chocolate?" He turned to face her.

The tip of his nose was pink. Immediately, the ache in her chest became a leak.

"Merlin," she said, looking down at the embarrassing splotches. "That's only happened when I've held Louis."

George touched the dampness with the pad of his thumb. "You think I'm acting like a baby?"

"No! You make me feel a different kind of tenderness."

A tiny smile curved his mouth. "Different? How?"

"I'll show you later, after we meet our friends at the Gnome and Jarvey."

George brushed a kiss across her lips. "We'll stop by the corner market on the way home." He winked. "Milk chocolate's my favourite."

"Is it?" Alicia looked her husband up and down. "I can't decide, so I'd best try them all, don't you think?"

His answering grin was naughtiness personified.

At the pub, the group was still on the round of drinks stage when Alicia and George joined them.

"Brilliant timing!" Vicky said, after telling Joey and Bridget to scoot over and make room. "We were just debating whether to order here or leave to wander the alleyways in search of more exotic cuisine."

"Exotic? I thought you said cheaper, 'cause we've all spent too much on drinks." Joey smiled at George. "No other shopkeeper pays an employee what you do."

George cocked a brow. "How do you know what I pay Caper?"

"He told us."

Bridget's nod sent her blonde curls bobbing like springs. "The whole pub, actually, one night when he'd been—you know." She mimed drinking.

Alicia imagined Caper lifting a Butterbeer "to the best Mister ever." She and George traded glances. Hers was amused. His was wry.

"How long ago was this?" George asked.

Beside Vicky, Kenneth said, "A few months."

George shrugged. "He's had a pay rise since then."

A collective groan of envy rose from the group.

The hint of a smirk on George's face was adorable. Alicia couldn't resist. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Was that for being a stellar employer?"

Joey didn't catch the mischievous gleam in George's eye. He said, "No, I think she fancies you."

Bridget pinched Joey's ear. "Of course Alicia fancies him! How do you think she got pregnant?"

"Well, when a male and female of a species—_ow!" _Joey rubbed the arm Bridget had punched. "You asked," he said laughingly.

She giggled. "You said it wrong. It's when a mummy and daddy love each other very much—"

"I thought wand work was involved," Vicky deadpanned.

"It is," Kenneth said. "And years of practice."

"_Years?_" Vicky echoed, cutting her eyes toward Alicia.

Alicia heard the teasing edge in her friend's voice and spoke quickly, "If we're going somewhere else for dinner, I'll suggest Veeraswammy. Das makes seekh kabab without green chillies if you ask, and the sweet pudding with raisins and cashews is delicious."

"Veeraswammy is in Knockturn Alley," George said, in a tell-me-you-never-go-there-alone tone of voice.

"Just a little ways in," she said. "You should try their _naan_."

"I've had their bread, and the place is next door to giant spiders."

Joey said, "Don't worry, they're in cages, not running loose."

George's expression didn't lighten.

Alicia thought her husband's protectiveness was cute, but knew better than to say it. She brought the subject back to food, asking him, "Have you had the Tandoori chicken?"

"No."

Several of the others assured George that it was wonderful.

"If you're interested in vegetarian dishes, they have a cucumber salad and a mixed veg curry," said a brunette at the end of the table. Alicia didn't recognise her, but the group was always adding and losing members. Most shops had a high employee turnover rate. She smiled at the girl, who gave a little wave in return.

Bridget said, "The lamb curry's my favourite."

Alicia slanted a sideways look at George. "I can always order and have the food delivered."

He glanced around the table at expectant faces before regarding Alicia speculatively. "Have you done that before?"

"Yes. Das gives me a discount," she said, "and Mum never minded me having friends over as long as we tidied after ourselves."

George's eyes narrowed. "Discount?"

First Oliver, now Das. It was sweet; the irrational belief that all men found her pregnant body sexy. Along with George's cuteness, Alicia kept that opinion to herself and answered the unspoken question, "My dad and Das Kumar were mates since they got sorted into Slytherin together."

"Slytherin." George's tone was disbelieving. "You never told me that."

"You never asked."

"No?" He thought for a moment. "Guess I didn't—and your mum?"

"Slytherin, too."

George's eyes dropped to her middle.

"My cousin Stacie's a Hufflepuff," Alicia said, "and her parents were Ravenclaws. Sorting isn't genetic."

He didn't look comforted by the thought. In fact, Joey had done a better job reassuring him about the giant spiders.

George put a hand on her abdomen and began to rub. "Weasleys have always been Gryffindors," he said.

The baby kicked.

"Did you feel that? She kicked me!" George frowned. "What's that mean?"

"Periodic exercise alternates with rest periods throughout gestation, reflecting the baby's needs and personality." Alicia patted her stomach. "When my ribs got sore, I looked it up in the pregnancy guide."

George began to smile. "The personality of a Gryffindor, boldly announcing her presence."

"Or a Hufflepuff who loves her daddy," said Vicky, tongue-in-cheek.

Alicia pulled a Bridget and pinched her.

Kenneth chuckled. "The baby could be a Ravenclaw cleverly making herself known."

"Unless she's a Slytherin using any means to get attention!" Bridget said excitedly.

The baby chose that moment to kick like a kangaroo.

"Oh!" Alicia pressed a hand to the sore spot beneath her ribs.

"She doesn't like being called a Slytherin," George said. "Proof she's a Gryffindor."

Alicia's stomach rumbled. "I think it's proof she's hungry and wants mummy to order dinner."

Cheers rang out.

During the impromptu dinner party, Alicia was glad to see George relax and chat Quidditch in between bites of Tandoori chicken. He had always been a social person, with a gift for making others laugh. At school, she'd watched him across the common room and fantasised about kissing him. Now, she watched George hold centre stage and entertained other fantasies.

Alicia startled when Vicky pinched her.

"Stop drooling over your husband and tell me it's all right I dart through your bedroom to use the toilet. The other one's occupied."

"I wasn't drooling, and of course you can." Reflexively, Alicia's hand rose to her mouth.

Vicky sniggered. "Made you check."

Alicia laughed and then made a face. "I'll come with you. My bladder's shrunk to teacup size; I have to pee—_again_." She took her friend's hand to rise from the sofa.

When Alicia exited the bathroom, she found Vicky standing beside the cot.

"Different, isn't it?" Alicia said. "George and I both liked the round shape."

"I like it, too." Vicky tucked a strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear: a nervous gesture.

"But?"

Vicky gnawed at her bottom lip before asking, "Why is the cot in here? Don't you have a nursery?"

"Not yet."

"Do you need help painting? Kenneth and I—"

"—we're waiting," Alicia said. "We're not ready to set up a nursery."

Vicky looked at her pityingly. "Don't you mean George isn't ready? I peeked into the other bedroom."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because I'm worried."

"Don't be." Alicia smiled determinedly. "I'm not. Things will work out."

"Gods, that's so Hufflepuff," Vicky said. "How did you get sorted into Gryffindor?"

The question was one Vicky asked whenever Alicia cautioned patience instead of action. Alicia crossed the room and gave her a hug. "I told the Hat that's where I wanted to go," she said. "I'd met Angelina on the train, and she got sorted there, and there was a cute boy with red hair who almost fell out of the boat trying to shake the giant squid's tentacle—he was so bold..."

"That's why you wanted to be a Gryffindor." Vicky rolled her eyes. "Well, it took courage to ask, even if the reason was Hufflepuff."

"Thanks, now hurry up before I decide to serve the pudding without you."

Hours later, she and George said goodbye to Bridget and Joey, the last of their guests to leave.

"She didn't ask me about Charlie," George said. "That's odd."

"I thought it was odder that Bridget didn't tease Joey about his break-up with Leah. Everyone else did."

"Not you."

"I felt sorry for him." Alicia gave George a meaningful look. "Maybe she did, too, for another reason."

He grimaced. "Joey and Bridget? A couple? Think of the kids."

"Bit early for that." She sighed. "I wish our baby would go to sleep. I'm tired and he's kicking again."

George steered her toward the bedroom. "Come lie down. Instead of going to the market for chocolate, I'm giving you a massage."

Eager as Alicia was to feel his hands working their magic on her tired feet and back, she paused to give George a lingering, appreciative kiss. "That's for being a stellar husband."

"You're a stellar wife; I'm just trying to match up."

The quiet sincerity in his voice made her heart turn over. She stroked his cheek with her fingers. "No one else could make me happy. I love you, and I want that chocolate—soon."

-

It gave George deep satisfaction to give Alicia the massage and to surprise her with chocolate a couple of nights later. Part of him wanted to give her and the baby a nursery, as well, but he still couldn't face clearing out Fred's room.

Mum dropped by on Wednesday afternoon with an invitation to Sunday dinner and two yellow bags bearing Cheeky Monkey logos. He accepted the invitation and left Caper to handle the shop while he and Mum had a chat in the office.

She placed a bag on his desk. "I couldn't resist," she said. "Open yours."

When he did, a wood framed contraption unfolded itself onto his desk.

"It's a cot-top changing mat. Hooks onto the rails, and has a soft, wipe clean pad."

She couldn't resist a changing mat? Must be a grandmum thing. "Thanks," George said. "I'm sure it will come in handy." He took a closer look at the mat. It was rectangular. "Our cot's round," he said. "This might not fit."

"Let's go up and check. If it doesn't, I'll return it straightaway." Mum snatched up the changing mat and marched out of the office.

_Now you know why she didn't sit down, _whispered Fred's voice in the back of his mind.

George trailed after his mother, amused yet suspicious of her stream of bright chatter.

"The other bag holds a Jolly Jack-in-the-Green bouncer for Louis. You'll see it on the weekend." She took a breath. "If you like it—and I can't imagine what you'd have against the greenery and flowers design—I'll buy another one for your baby."

They had reached the flat. George opened the door, saying, "You talked all the way upstairs and never ran out of breath. You're in good shape, Mum."

She tugged his remaining earlobe. "I have to be to keep up with my children and grandbabies, Mr. Cheeky."

He stood to the side for her to enter. "Yes, Mum."

"And your father most of all," she threw over her shoulder.

George didn't ask what his mum meant by that. The possibilities were too disturbing.

_Dancing. She's talking about disco dancing. Dad must have dug out his enchanted gramophone after the first reception._

Yeah, that was it, George decided, gratefully latching onto the explanation. He said, "The cot's in our bedroom."

His mother had already begun to open Fred's door. "Oh, George," she whispered, staring into the room. "I hoped things would be different." A few seconds later, her gaze pinned his. "How long will you put it off?"

"As long as I need to," George said. "Alicia and I have discussed the issue and she agrees there's no hurry."

Her lips thinned. "Of course she did! The girl's madly in love with you and would go along with anything—"

"The way you do with Dad?" George laughed shortly. "Right. Give her some credit, Mum. Alicia's not a pushover, she just understands what I'm going through."

"And I don't?"

Anger he'd thought dealt with rose up, hot and choking. "You got rid of our bunk beds easily enough."

He thought for an instant that she would box his ear, and then her face began to crumple. "You don't know how many times I cried myself to sleep on Fred's mattress, remembering his smile when I tucked him in." She dug a handkerchief out of her handbag and wiped her eyes. "It wasn't _easy, _but I did what needed to be done._" _

A tear rolled down George's cheek. "I'm sorry, Mum. I can't do that right now."

Soft arms engulfed him in a hug. "It's all right, love." She sniffed. "I'll say no more."

His mum shut the door and went to the other bedroom to place the changing mat on the cot. It fit perfectly.

_Did you really think it wouldn't? _

No, George had suspected his mum wanted to discuss the nursery. He was glad they'd cleared the air. "Looks good." Not wanting to end their visit on a sad note, he said, "I'll put the kettle on for tea. Caper made a batch of gingernut biscuits, and Alicia's trying to cut down, so..."

"I'll eat a couple and carry a few to your father." She patted his arm. "You've always been thoughtful."

"Not always," he said.

Her smile was misty. "But you try, that's what's important."

Over the next few days, George attempted to begin sorting through Fred's things. On the first try, he took down the poster-sized photograph of the shop and hung it on a wall in his office. Next visit, he stripped the linens off the bed. To avoid sifting through the contents of the bedside table drawer, he decided to go through the clothes in the wardrobe.

George never made it past opening the doors.

The sight of Fred's prized dragon hide suits and first, brand new set of dress robes was too hard to take. He left the bedroom and didn't return.

On Sunday, George ribbed Bill and Fleur that Louis was growing bigger and more beautiful every time he saw him, but otherwise hung back and let others do the talking. The role of observer was one he'd become perversely comfortable with after the final battle. It was easy to slip back into the habit: with one exception.

Then, he'd only pretended to listen and wouldn't have noticed if anyone else was feeling low. Today, although he didn't participate, he enjoyed the conversations—and he was aware that Percy looked strained and miserable.

While the others tidied the kitchen, George trailed his brother upstairs. "Using the old head-for-the-loo-and-don't-return trick to get out of dish duty, eh?"

Percy halted on the second floor landing. "Is that what you're doing?"

"No. I followed you," George said. "Let's talk, you pick the place."

"My room." Percy led the way to the small bedroom overlooking the back garden. Inside, he leaned against the wall beside the narrow window and crossed his arms. "What do you want to talk about? The Ministry memorial fountain? I don't know any more than Dad. There will be an unveiling on the anniversary of the battle, although no formal announcement has been made."

The ringing in George's ears drowned out the rest of Percy's speech. His body felt weird. It was almost as if his limbs weren't there. Little coloured dots floated in front of his eyes and began to turn black.

_Faint and I have ammunition to take the piss out of you for the rest of your life._

George blinked and the spots vanished. His jaw clenched at the thought of enduring another memorial service.

_It's an unveiling, not a service. You show up and then leave._ _Bloody hell, anything will be an improvement on the load of bollocks that used to clutter up the Atrium!_

That was true.

Percy cleared his throat. "Are you okay?"

"I hadn't heard about the new fountain," George said. "I'm okay with it." He looked Percy in the eye. "Are you and Penelope okay?"

The view of the garden suddenly riveted Percy's gaze. "Why do you ask?"

"She's not here."

"I didn't invite her." Percy continued to stare through the windowpane. "If I had, she would have jumped at the chance. Penelope loves the family almost as much as I do." He gave a mirthless laugh. "More than she loves me, that's certain."

"How can you say that? She's been your girl since Hogwarts, through the time—"

"—I turned my back on the family?" Percy faced George. "It would seem that way, when you don't know about all the times she urged me to make amends and I refused, and we didn't speak for days and weeks."

"Christmas," George said. "I thought..."

_He was drunk enough to open up and cry? Me, too._

Percy said, "You thought I changed my ways and Penelope and I would become a happy couple?" His smile twisted down. "I did, too, until I realised she's happier here than when we're alone."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, and anyway, I brought everything on myself for being a humongous bighead."

His staid brother was trying to lighten the mood with self-deprecating humour; wonders truly never ceased. George said, "That's in the past. Let it go."

"Do you really mean that?"

Percy's relationship with Penelope wasn't what his brother was referring to. Hadn't they gone over this at Christmas?

_Maybe Perce doesn't remember the touching moment when you told him you didn't want him to die, you just wanted to choke him from time to time._

That was brotherly love for you. George smiled a little. "Yes."

Percy held out his hand and then pulled George into a hug.

The next morning, a phalanx of black robed Aurors entered the shop, wands outstretched. "The Minister will arrive in four-point-fifty-six minutes," said the leader, a squat, dour wizard. "We must secure these premises."

"Does that mean I have to leave?" George's lone patron asked. "What about my first customer of the day discount?"

There was no such discount. George made it up when the wizened crone—who told him her little sister recommended his Daydream Charms—looked ambivalent about purchasing one herself. He handed her a box decorated with a pirate ship sailing into a sunset. "Free of charge, for your inconvenience."

The crone left the shop, all smiles.

In response to the lead Auror's scowl, George said, "Don't worry about the loss. She'll brag about the free gift to all her friends, so I'm bound to recoup the profit."

The Auror glanced at his wristwatch. "ETA is three minutes." He jerked his head toward the staff corridor. "Sweep the building and secure the exits."

Four Aurors hurried out. The two that remained waved their wands in complicated patterns George assumed were to detect Dark magic. "I have a new and improved Foe-Glass if you're interested," he told the man and woman. "No longer restricted to enemies, it shows those you wish to avoid, from a mother-in-law to a Witch Guide selling biscuits."

"My daughter is a Witch Guide," the female Auror said stiffly.

"I meant _other _Witch Guides—the relentless ones," George said. "I'm sure your daughter is charming."

A yelp of pain travelled from the rear of the building. "Finger trap," George said to Caper. "Someone tried to open the office window by hand."

A moment afterward, they heard a low _oooff _. "Storage room," Caper said.

George rubbed his chin. "Sand bag or groin pull, d'you think?"

Another spell-amplified moan drifted into the shop. The sound had too much breath in it to be the result of a groin pull jinx.

"_Sand bag_," Caper and George said simultaneously.

The front door opened.

Flanked by Aurors, the Minister for Magic strode into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. His dignified mien relaxed into a wide smile. "George, good to see you."

The men shook hands.

"I told you to drop by for a beer anytime," George said. "I imagined something a little later in the day, though, and without a dozen bodyguards involved."

Kingsley chuckled. "Let's go to your office." He turned to the grim-faced Auror. "This meeting will be private."

"The Minister has an appointment with the Head of Magical Law Enforcement in twelve-point—"

"I don't need to know the seconds, and I'll be out in time to Apparate to the Ministry, never fear."

"No, sir!"

_Jolly bunch. _George imagined Fred rolling his eyes.

In the office, they found the Auror still trying to release his finger from the window's hidden trap.

"I learned the spell from a Chinese wizard," George said. "You'll never puzzle out the counter charm; hold still." A flick of his wand and a nonverbal spell freed the Auror to stumble out of the room.

"Ingenious, like the Boomerang Beret and Bowler." Kingsley removed a thick envelope from an inside robe pocket. "I told the Head of Requisitions I wanted to deliver your contract personally." He tossed the envelope onto the desk. "Congratulations. I think you'll be pleased with the order and the remuneration."

"If you agreed to the terms and deposited half the fee in my vault at Gringotts, I'm sure I will." George waited for his friend to sit before he made himself comfortable. "You have five minutes before security comes knocking. What really brought you here? The memorial?"

Kingsley nodded. "The editor of the Prophet agreed to delay the article until Monday morning to ensure only the families of those whose bravery and loss we commemorate—"

"—you don't have to practice your speech on me. I'll be there."

"Thank you."

On Sunday, George stood with Alicia and his family as Kingsley spoke of those who sacrificed their lives in the second wizarding war. He gazed at the stone obelisk, which rose from a fountain basin, and detachedly admired the statues that ringed the memorial. In contrast to the former design, the centaur, goblin, house-elf, and witch joined the wizard in looking outward, as if toward the future, with heads held high.

Somehow, he maintained his composure when Kingsley began reading the names entered into The Book of Remembrance. He maintained poise when sounds of grief—some subdued, others not—began to fill the air.

His facade didn't crumble until a little boy toddled out of the crowd. The turquoise-haired lad patted the statue of the witch. "Mama!"

"Teddy!" Andromeda Tonks ran forward to scoop the boy up.

George turned and shouldered a path through the crowd, his grip on Alicia kept tight to ensure they weren't parted. When they reached the visitor's exit and stepped inside the telephone box, he let go of her wrist in order to take her face in his hands. "If you _ever _put yourself in danger for me, I'll—I'll—" He kissed Alicia roughly and then wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "Promise you won't leave our baby like Tonks left Teddy."

Her body shook. "The war's over, love. We're safe."

He heard the sob in her voice and felt like a bastard for demanding, "Promise me."

Alicia tilted her head to look up at him with eyes filled with understanding and love. "I promise."

In the weeks that followed, George depended heavily on his wife's thoughtful nature. He worked days and then spent hours each night working on the Ministry order. Although he had contracted out the initial production of the hats and berets along with the more basic charm work, he and Caper were the only ones who could cast the patented spells.

Alicia never complained that he was too busy to accompany her to midwitch appointments. She acted content to read or knit—a skill his mum was teaching her—in the storeroom while they worked.

When Ron and Ginny sat their NEWTs, George sent letters by owl post to offer congratulations and summer jobs at the shop. In case the group of friends planned a short holiday to celebrate, he set the fourth Saturday as the first day of employment. That would give him ten days to work full time on casting spells and to have the last of the Boomerang Berets and Bowlers ready to ship by the beginning of June. Before the baby arrived.

The night before Ron and Ginny were to help Caper manage the shop, George looked up from the beret he was working on to ask Alicia, "Aren't you going to sit and put your feet up?"

"I have too much energy." She continued walking the perimeter of the storeroom. "I hope Caper's enjoying his visit with his friends. It's so hard to get him to take any time off."

"I thought I'd have to order him to go have fun," George said distractedly, alarmed to see her grimace in pain and rub her back. "What's wrong?" He threw down the beret and walked over to take over massage duties. "Do you have more aches and pains because the baby's dropped?"

"Usually in my thighs, not my back."

George had an idea. "Why don't we go upstairs? I'll make you a sandwich."

"I'm not hungry."

"A cup of tea?"

"All right."

If she was humouring him, George appreciated it. He wanted to do something for her. "Back still hurting?" he asked when they reached the kitchen.

"Not too badly, I'll continue ignoring the twinges until they go away."

_Continue? How long has she had these twinges?_

"Fred's" question was one George needed answered. "Should I owl the midwitch?"

Alicia's eyes widened. "No, it's only pre-labour contractions. Every pregnant woman experiences them."

He noticed faint purple shadows beneath her eyes. "Did those contractions keep you from sleeping last night?"

"I'm excitable, like most first-time mums. I'll sleep in tomorrow."

George made a pot of tea while keeping an eye on Alicia. "How far apart are the contractions?"

"I don't know. I told you, I'm ignoring them."

"I can't, not since I realised you're having contractions every five minutes." He knelt beside her chair and placed a hand on her belly. She pushed his hand away.

"Stop it, I'm fine." Tears welled in her eyes and thickened her voice.

George waited for Alicia's body to tense and splayed his fingers across her abdomen, mentally counting. It took sixty seconds for the tightness to relax. It took another minute for him to find his voice. "No, you're in labour."

-

* * *

A/N: I envy people who have more time to write in the summer. It took two full weeks to write this chapter. Not that I'm complaining, (too much, heh) because I'm happy with the way the chapter turned out and hope readers are, too. :)

I named the takeaway after "the oldest surviving Indian restaurant in the UK," established in London by the great grandson of an English general and an Indian princess in 1926. The Knockturn Alley place lacks the Muggle incarnation's silver-painted ceiling, chandeliers, and Kalighat style paintings from Bengal, but I imagine there are turbans displayed on the wall...even if they're not as posh, lol.

A Jack in the Green is a colourful figure, almost 3m (nine feet) tall, covered in greenery and flowers seen in (and sometimes leading) parades in towns on the May Bank Holiday. (He also appears at May Fairs in the US.) I considered making a "Jolly Jackalope" bouncer, but didn't think jackalope antlers would be baby safe, and the Flying Jackalopes of South Dakota even less so. :D

The memorial fountain was based on several different ones discovered during my search of the UK inventory of war memorials. (Yes, I'll google anything to gain a detail for a story. ;) ) The previous fountain of magical brethren was such an affront to magical beings, I prefer to think it was torn down and replaced with a memorial.

The HP-Lexicon's timeline shows the Marauders sitting their NEWTs and leaving Hogwarts in May, so I chose to have Ron & Co. do likewise.

As for the cliffie-ish ending, I could blame writing until 5AM, but readers know me too well. It's fun to cliff dive into the next (and this time final) chapter.

The abfab reviewers I was content to "murder sleep" to make a Friday post for were…**40/16, adrienne.hope, alix33, BobbieJo1, btyrhtout, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cassandra's Cross, christy86, cinroc, Creative Touch, Dangling.Radishes, Diana42, ElspethBates, Falln4DarkAngel, Fibinaci, Funeral Of A Friend, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, infinity, JasperisMYeverything, Kylani, Lady Adrienne Faery, Lady Clark-Weasley of Books, Legallyblonde79, MBP, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, Nymphadora17, PhoenixDreamer55, potteronpotluvhim, Robyn Hawkes, Rose of the West, Snuffles7, SOphia.weasley, sophia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, tiffyrose, Twinsmom, vintagejgc, WeasleyWeakness, x.o.gossipgirl.x.o, and xoxphoenix.**


	40. Baby Love

She was in labour and he was trying not to panic. It was too early: if not for the baby, then definitely for him. He hadn't got round to reading that chapter of the pregnancy book yet. All he could think to do was ask, "Have you packed a bag to take to the birthing centre?"

He thought she'd say yes and tell him where to find it. George didn't expect Alicia to start crying.

"Oh gods, I've been so afraid this would happen," she said. "I kept hoping if I did everything right, if I willed hard enough—" She covered her face with her hands. "I'm so sorry."

George was at a loss. His mother had never acted like this. She'd briskly ordered her husband to fetch her labour bag, her boys to mind their Auntie Muriel, and lit a communication fire to contact the Wizarding Ambulance Service. He said, "It isn't your fault the baby's early."

Alicia cried harder.

In his mind, he heard a snort. _You're doing a less-than-stellar job of comforting. _

George put his arms around Alicia. "Shhh...it's okay."

"No, it isn't." She took a shuddering breath and looked at him. Her eyelashes were spiky with tears. "The baby's not premature."

"What does that mean?"

She stiffened as her body went into another contraction. George could feel her abdomen harden and then relax.

"I didn't remember the exact date of my last menstrual period," she said. "After the last scrying—" Her face contorted in misery. "I couldn't tell you the midwitch adjusted the due date to May twenty-fifth. I couldn't." Her gaze implored. "As many babies born are born after the due date as before, especially in a first pregnancy. Why not ours?"

"I don't know," he said, unable to get his head around the fact that she'd concealed the true date for weeks.

An inner voice cut through his daze. _Oi! Your wife's having a baby, here!_ _Sort out relationship stuff later. _

"Right," George said. He had to focus. "Four days isn't that early compared to—where's the bag?"

"Under my side of the bed."

George used an _Accio_ and called, "Caper!"

The house-elf instantly appeared. "Is it time for Mistress to go to the centre?"

"Yes. Will you Apparate us there? I don't trust the ambulance service." George remembered his mum screeching at the emergency mediwizard for strapping her down too tightly. He wasn't giving a green-robed sadist the chance to do that to his wife.

Caper's eyes glowed with zeal. "At once!"

"Alicia Weasley, having a baby, right this bloody minute!" George yelled the moment they arrived in the alley beside the centre. He turned to Caper. "Spread the word and then come back, all right? Don't go home. Wait with the others."

Caper shook his head. "Elves is not—"

"Sure they are." When a mediwitch opened the door that magically appeared in the brick wall, George said, "This is my friend Caper. You have no problem with him waiting with the others, do you?"

The woman appeared startled by the question. "N—no."

Alicia was still holding onto Caper's arm. "Please come back," she said. "It would mean a lot to us."

Caper patted her hand before pulling away. "I will return." He Disapparated.

Mediwitch Cross—by her nametag— was a brisk, motherly sort. "Come in," she said. "How far apart are the contractions, dear?"

"Five minutes," George said. "They last sixty seconds."

"Ah," said the mediwitch, sounding amused for some bizarre reason.

_She was asking Alicia, not you, loony._

That would explain it.

"My water hasn't broken," Alicia said. "Is that a problem?"

"No, and some would call it a blessing. Babies born 'in the caul,' have the gift of Sight."

George grimaced. The last thing he wanted to face one day was a Trelawney-like teenager shouting from her room that Seers were always persecuted. "I'd rather the water broke."

"It likely will."

At the door separating the birthing suites from the reception and waiting areas, Mediwitch Cross performed the sanitising charm routine and led them to a room that looked like a normal bedroom, with polished wood furniture and watercolour landscapes hung on pale blue walls.

Once she finished a series of diagnostic spells, George asked, "Where are we at in labour? It's not the pushing part, is it, and where's the midwitch?"

"She'll be here shortly, and it takes an average of three to eight hours to go from four centimetres to full dilation, so there will be no need to push for quite some time."

He put his arm around Alicia, who was breathing through another contraction. "Eight hours! That's too long. She'll be in pain. Can't we hurry things up?"

The mediwitch replied kindly, "No, Mr. Weasley, although we have spells to ease discomfort when the time comes." She left to continue her rounds.

George helped Alicia out of her clothes and bent to speak directly to her abdomen. "You're not an average baby, fearing the unknown," he said. "You're a Gryffindor. Adventure awaits—so hurry the process up, will you?" He kissed her belly and then buttoned Alicia into a short nightdress. "What happens now?"

"I'd prefer to walk around if you don't mind me leaning on you when the contractions come."

"If I don't mind? You're my wife. I want you to lean on me. When you don't, it makes me feel like you don't trust me to be there for you."

Alicia grabbed his arm to steady herself while she breathed through a new contraction.

He pushed back a strand of hair from her face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She didn't pretend not to know what he was talking about. "When I told you about the baby you said the date had to be June. I didn't want to cause you any more hurt and worry—" Alicia bit her lip, visibly fighting back tears.

_I couldn't tell you the midwitch adjusted the due date to May twenty-fifth. I couldn't!_

George looked into her eyes and faced the truth. She'd worried so he wouldn't have to, cried over the thought of causing him pain, and loved him more than he deserved.

It was a humbling realisation.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't feel that way anymore. I'm not afraid Fred will be forgotten."

"He won't be," she said on a gasp.

George put his hand on her abdomen. It was rock hard. "I know, and—hey—the contraction's lasting over a minute."

"I'm aware of that. Rub my back, not my stomach, please."

He immediately shifted position.

She moaned. "Harder."

"Like this?" He rotated his fist against her back, pressing firmly.

"Yes! Don't stop...don't stop. _Ooohhhhh..._."

"Good thing no one's listening," George said. "They might get the wrong idea."

Alicia gave a tired-sounding giggle. "Is everything connected to sex for men?"

He imagined Fred smirking. _No, but it is fun to think about._

George said, "I love you. Sexual thoughts come with it."

"I'm glad." She stood on tiptoes to brush a kiss across his lips. "About everything. I love you so much—" Alicia inhaled sharply.

"Another contraction? It hasn't been five minutes." He stood behind her and began to rub her lower back.

"Eventually...they'll feel like...they never completely disappear," she said.

"You'll have pain relief spells by then."

"I don't have them _now."_

"Tell me what you need," George said. "Is this hard enough?"

"Harder."

He used his knuckles.

She moaned. "Lower. Deeper. Right there—_oh gods, yes!_"

When the contraction faded, she looked over her shoulder at him. "Was it good for you, too?"

They were laughing softly together when Midwitch Leach entered the room, Mediwitch Cross in tow.

"Laughter is the best medicine," said the midwitch, dark eyes twinkling, "but I'll wager, Mrs. Weasley, that you're at the point of labour where a spell of pain relief would be highly appreciated."

"Yes, please."

The midwitch waved her wand in a rapid, complex pattern. "There," she said. "Better?"

Alicia's smile lit up her face. "Yes, thank you. I still feel the contraction building, but it's a dull pain, not sharp anymore."

"Excellent," Midwitch Leach said. "Let's see how you've progressed."

George followed his wife to the bed and reached for a sheet to protect modesty.

Alicia pushed it away. "It's too hot. I'm sweating."

"I'll fetch a damp flannel," he said, moving toward the washbasin.

"Make sure it's cold," Alicia called after him.

There was a pitcher of ice water on the marble top of the basin unit. George used a cup to scoop out water to soak the cloth.

He hurried back to Alicia. "Here."

"Mmm," she said, holding the flannel to her brow. "Thank you."

Midwitch Leach had finished her examination. "Are you sure you marked the chart correctly?" she asked the mediwitch in a hushed voice.

Mediwitch Cross' expression reminded George of Professor McGonagall. "Absolutely."

He decided to join the conversation. "Alicia was four centimetres before," he said. "How far is she dilated now?"

Alicia said, "Please say it isn't less."

Midwitch Leach approached the side of the bed. "It's more—three centimetres, in fact. I've never encountered such rapid dilation."

George's eyes flew to Alicia.

She was looking at him with something close to awe. "You told the baby to hurry and he did."

"She did," George corrected absently, before asking the midwitch, "What's that mean, seven centimetres?"

"Your wife is in transition."

He nodded as though he knew what that meant. "And after this comes...?"

"Delivery."

In the back of his mind, Fred sniggered. _You really should have read that pregnancy book._

"Tell me about it," George muttered.

The midwitch thought he was talking to her. She said, "This is the shortest yet most difficult stage of labour. Continue to see to your wife's comfort, and when it's time, you'll be her coach and encourage her to push."

"I can do that," George said.

_You sound as confident as when you told Mr. Fairlie we could design fireworks to explode into the shape of a red heart. _

They had never done such a thing before, but George never doubted that they could. The twins built their company by believing, then achieving.

Alicia asked, "May I change positions?"

"Of course," Midwitch Leach said soothingly. "Lie on your side, kneel on the bed, lean against your partner—whatever works for you."

"And should I pant or blow...if I get the urge to push...when it isn't time?" Alicia was panting.

George looked at the midwitch. "How long does transition last?"

Midwitch Leach and Mediwitch Cross exchanged an unreadable glance. The mediwitch bustled across the room to fiddle with some equipment on a side table while the midwitch examined Alicia again.

"Fully dilated." She smiled. "This baby is impatient to be born."

"Well, she is a Weasley," George said. He helped Alicia over to the birthing stool and sat behind her in a chair.

She rested her arms on his legs and leaned back against him between contractions. "What if we have a boy?"

George was shamed that she still felt anxiety. "Boy or girl, I'll love our baby." He kissed her brow. "The name Frederique's out if she's a he, though."

The midwitch cut through Alicia's giggle. "I'll rupture the sac to avoid a splash in the face if there's no objection."

"None at all," George said. He'd prefer not to have a child with Sight who peered at his tea leaves and said, "Dear, dear, Daddy, this is not a happy cup."

The procedure took only a moment. Afterwards, Midwitch Leach told Alicia, "Close your eyes and focus on the birth." Her glance at George added _without external distractions. _Minutes later, she said, "The baby's head is crowning. I see flame coloured hair."

George imagined a beautiful little red-haired girl. The vision shifted and became his brother. Fred winked.

_How about a mini-Fred? Devastatingly handsome, talented, loved by all..._

A few months ago, the idea had hurt too much to consider. Now, George finally understood why his mum gave her children names that reminded her of the brothers she'd lost. It was more than honouring a memory. It was a tribute to love that would never die.

The tears in his eyes spilled over when Alicia's elated cry was followed by the cries of their newborn son.

-

He was beautiful. Trembling, crying, little fists clenched tight: her son was the most perfect thing she had ever seen.

George's lips brushed her hair. "Thank you," he said huskily.

She glanced back and saw he was smiling through tears the same way she was. "We did this together."

Alicia held onto George's hand while Mediwitch Cross deftly dried the baby with a towel and the midwitch cast spells to promote healing, minimise discomfort, and clear away the afterbirth.

Once she was finished tending to Alicia, Midwitch Leach clamped the umbilical cord. She asked, "Would you like to cut the cord, Mr. Weasley?"

George stood, but didn't take the scissors. "Where do I cut to give him an innie?" He glanced at Alicia and made a face. "Percy got an outie and he's held a grudge against Dad ever since."

Alicia imagined six redheaded boys comparing bellybuttons and smiled, although she felt a twinge of sympathy for Percy being the odd one out—literally.

Midwitch Leach said, "It's how the scar heals not where you cut it that determines a bellybutton, Mr. Weasley."

"Will you put that in writing?" George took the scissors and cut the cord. He seemed surprised at how much effort it took.

Impatient to hold the baby, Alicia held onto George's arm to rise and settle onto the bed.

"All ready for Mum." Mediwitch Cross placed the baby on Alicia's chest and covered him with a warm towel.

Tummy to tummy, breast to cheek, Alicia cradled her son, overwhelmed by tenderness. All those nights she'd wrapped her arms around her middle, longing to hold her baby—and here he was. "Hullo," she whispered. Alicia marvelled at his quiet alertness, and the way dark blue eyes focused on hers. She bent to kiss the baby's forehead. His pink skin was incredibly soft.

Her heart turned over when George stroked downy hair sticking out from the cotton knit cap. "Is the baby warm enough?" he asked Midwitch Leach.

"A mother's body is as good as the Warming Charm on a bassinet," she said reassuringly. "And babies are most content when they smell their mother and hear her voice."

"He's smacking his lips—should I nurse him?" Alicia was amazed to feel the baby push with his legs.

Seated beside her, George began unbuttoning her nightdress. "You feed a baby when he's hungry, even I know that." He chuckled. "He's latched on right away. A bold Gryffindor."

The baby paused sucking, looked at the face bent close to his, and then continued to nurse.

Alicia barely noticed the women leave to allow them "bonding time." The interaction between father and son entranced her.

"He's got your dimples," George said. "I saw them when he was crying." He rubbed the baby's cheek with a fingertip.

It was time broach a sensitive subject. "Don't you think we should decide on a proper name?" Alicia had to remind herself to breathe as she waited for an answer.

George smiled a little as he slipped a hand beneath the towel to rub the baby's back. "Fred Thomas Weasley is a good name."

Named in honour of his uncle and grandfather—she couldn't speak. Her heart was so full Alicia was afraid she'd bawl and upset the two she loved most in the world. To express her joy, she reached for George's hand and brought it to her lips.

The gentle suction at Alicia's breast ceased. The baby stared up at her.

Alicia swallowed hard and whispered, "Are you ready to switch sides, Fred Thomas?"

She knew it was a reflex, but when tiny lips curved and dimples flashed in baby cheeks, Alicia couldn't help but sigh and look forward to receiving a "real" smile.

Beside her, George said, "He likes his name."

Alicia shifted little Fred. "It's a wonderful name, given by the most wonderful father."

"I don't know about that."

"I do," she said.

Her certainty brought a hint of smugness to George's face. "Well, I am a Weasley."

Her husband made conceit cute. She kissed his cheek. A few minutes later, she said, "Fred's stopped nursing. Do you want to hold him?"

George shook his head. "He looks happy where he is."

"I'm not; I need to use the toilet." Alicia ignored daddy jitters and transferred the baby to George.

She slowly made her way to the en suite bathroom. As she washed her hands, Alicia grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. Purple shadows under her eyes, sweat-damp hair, and shiny nose: she looked a fright.

Two Complexion Charms and a Styling Spell later, she entered the birthing suite to hear George talking to their son. "And if for some reason you end up with an outie," he said, "I'll make sure you know that if you play with your bellybutton, it won't unfasten and fly around the room like an untied balloon." He gave a huff of amusement. "It won't unscrew and make your legs fall off, either."

Alicia said, "Let me guess—those are things you told Percy?"

"Bill and Charlie did." George grinned. "Fred and I said if Percy's bellybutton came undone he'd lose his skin and be a walking skeleton."

She returned to the bed and snuggled close to her husband. "Poor Percy."

"Percy ran to mum and we were sent to our rooms without dinner," George said. "Pity us instead."

"I do." Alicia laid her head on his shoulder and watched the baby's eyes slowly close. She said, "Our Fred will never go to sleep hungry."

"We—uh—didn't exactly go hungry," George said. "Someone delivered a plate of sandwiches and glasses of lemonade to our door." Beneath her cheek, his shoulder shook. "We knew it was Mum. She cut the sandwiches into triangles and arranged them like a pinwheel."

"How you suffered," Alicia said around a yawn.

"We did. There was nothing for afters."

While George described how the smell of chocolate chip biscuits had wafted upstairs, cruelly tantalising, she closed her eyes for a moment's rest.

Some time later, Alicia awoke with a start. "Where's Fred?"

George looked up from rummaging through the suitcase lying open on the bed. "Mediwitch Cross took him to get bathed and weighed and such. They'll be back soon." He held up two nightdresses. "These both have those nursing flap things, right?"

She reached for the lilac-coloured nightie. "Yes, dear."

He kissed the side of her throat while helping her dress. "We've got a lot of people waiting to see the baby. I want you to be able to nurse him without—you know."

"Flashing baps?"

He laughed. "Yeah."

Mediwitch Cross soon returned pushing a portable bassinet. Fred lay on his back, swaddled and sleeping. "My shift is almost over," she said, "but I'll leave you in capable hands. I trained Mediwitch Richie myself." She smiled to hear their words of appreciation and told them the details of Fred's bath and exam.

"Fred's bigger than Louis was," George said once the mediwitch departed.

His expression made it easy to imagine the glee of a little brother gaining an advantage over an older one. Alicia didn't remind him that Louis had been premature. She let George enjoy his moment.

Once he left the room to share the news and bring the grandparents to visit, Alicia leaned down over the bassinet and kissed the tip of Fred's adorable nose. She whispered, "However tall you grow to be will be the perfect height, love."

Alicia had put on a dressing gown and was debating whether to get in a cuddle or let the baby have a few more seconds of peaceful slumber when Molly burst into the room. "Let me see him, let me see our darling Freddie!"

She rushed over to hug her daughter in law and peer into the bassinet. "May I?" she asked, touching his cap. At Alicia's nod, she pulled it back and gave a deep sigh. "Such beautiful hair. It brings back memories." Molly sniffed.

"Would you like to hold him?"

Molly's wistful expression immediately became mischievous. "I didn't outrun Arthur and Anne for exercise," she said, before cooing to the baby, "Come to Granny, precious."

Alicia's mum was the next grandparent to arrive. She embraced her daughter and promptly steered her to the bed. "You should be resting."

"Yes, Nanny," Alicia murmured.

Her mum tucked Alicia into bed and plumped the pillows. "Nanny Spinnet. I like the sound of that."

"I prefer Granny Molly to Granny Weasley, but either will do," Molly said as she transferred Fred to his nanny's arms. She bustled over to the pitcher of water next to the washbasin and poured Alicia a glass. "Women expend a lot of energy, giving birth," she said. "I was thirsty as a troll and hungry as a Hippogriff after every delivery." She asked Arthur, who had come into the room with George, "Didn't I eat four sausages after the twins were born?"

"With mash and onion gravy," Arthur said, eyes twinkling.

George sidestepped the trio gathered around their grandson to ask Alicia, "Are you hungry? I could ask Ca—"

"No!" She waited for George to sit beside her to say in a low voice, "If you say his name he'll hear and pop in to be of service."

"And you don't want the staff worrying about security when he counters the Anti-Apparation wards. Gotcha—we can always ask him to conjure us a snack when he stops in."

After the grandparents, Bill and Fleur visited.

Fleur's eyes were snapping in irritation. "_Mon chou_ is not a sibling, so ze mediwitch would not allow 'im to come wiz us." She kissed Alicia on both cheeks and deftly plucked Fred out of George's arms. "Your cousin Louis will visit you at 'ome, _mon lapin_."

"Are you saying my son has big ears?" George punctuated the question with an arched brow.

"_Non_. Zey are _parfait_. To call ze _bébé _zat is a term _d'__affection_, _n'est-ce pas_?"

George said, "I s'ppose Fred will be used to it by the time he figures out his godmother calls him her bunny." He grinned when Fleur gave an excited shriek and began talking to the baby in rapid-fire French.

Alicia looked at Bill.

He winked. "She's listing all the ways a fairy godmother is nothing compared to a French godmother."

George asked, "You'll be a godfather to Fred, won't you?"

Bill's lifted his eyebrow in the exact manner George had earlier. "_A _godfather? How many are you planning to have?"

"Two."

Bill's crooked smile managed to tease and show understanding all at once. "You think your son's going to manage that much mischief?"

"A father can dream."

Alicia watched the brothers chuckle and hoped that Fred would have a brother or sister to be close to one day.

Fleur walked over. "_Mon lapin_ is rooting for somezing I must save for Louis, _tu comprens?_"

"_Mais oui_," Alicia said, taking Fred. She tried to undo a nursing flap with one hand.

"Allow me. Zey take practice." Fleur assisted her and fetched a light blanket to cover the baby.

Alicia felt her eyes grow misty. "Have I told you how glad I am you're my sister?"

Fleur sat on the edge of the bed. "I feel ze same way, _ma belle-soeur_." She smiled and then abruptly jumped to her feet, her head tilted at an angle of listening.

"What is it?" Alicia asked.

"We must go."

Bill said, "I think she hears Louis cry before he makes a sound."

"I am ze _maman_," Fleur said regally. "I know when Louis is hungry." She blew Fred a kiss. "_À bientôt!_"

Only when Bill opened the door for Fleur did the faint sound of crying enter the room.

Fred immediately stopped nursing. Alicia lowered the blanket to see his little mouth turn down. He gave a fretful cry.

"Oh, he's sensitive, maybe he does have the Sight," Alicia said.

The instant the door closed, Fred latched on again.

George stretched out beside her on the bed. "He doesn't have the Sight; he was annoyed. No one wants to hear a crying baby when they're trying to enjoy dinner—not even other babies."

She didn't argue. Only time would tell whether Fred had the Gift or not. Alicia was content to rest with her husband and child.

They had just finished changing their first wet nappy when the door cracked open. Ron's voice carried inside. "Is it...all clear...for us to come in?"

George wasn't the only one who didn't want to view a "breastfeeding demonstration" it seemed. "Yes," Alicia called.

Ginny, Ron and Percy spilled into the room.

"Oh, he's so cute!" Ginny held out her arms. "May I hold him?"

George shook his head. "Percy is the eldest," he said, a tiny smirk curving his mouth. "He should have the honour." He ignored Ron's snort to wave his brother to a chair. "Have a seat and say hullo to your nephew, Uncle Percy."

If he thought his brother would balk at handling a newborn, George was disappointed. Percy handled the baby with ease. "Hullo, Fred. I'm the uncle to come to when you want _sound _advice."

Ron pretended to cough. "Boring advice."

"Don't listen to him," Percy said. "Rules are rules for a reason."

Ginny, who had taken a seat on the side of the bed, said to Alicia, "Mum used to tell us that, and when one of us would ask why, she'd say—"

_"Because I said so!" _Four Weasleys cried in unison.

Alicia waited until the laughter subsided down to ask, "Are Hermione, Harry, and Penelope here, too? If they'd like to see the baby someone could—"

Ron was out the door before she could finish the sentence.

"Penelope isn't—I didn't..." Percy trailed off, shrugging. "Want to hold the baby?" he asked Ginny.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No, I want to admire him from afar." She reached for the baby. "Come to Auntie, precious."

"You sound just like your mother," Alicia said, amused.

Ginny kissed Fred's brow. "Tell mummy not to say that in front of Harry," she baby-talked. "We can't have her scaring him off, now can we?"

"If Voldemort couldn't manage it I don't see how Mum could," Percy said.

George and Ginny sniggered.

Percy's lips twitched.

Ron ushered Harry and Hermione into the room. He elbowed Harry. "See? He's got Weasley hair. Future Gryffindor, for sure."

"I see." Harry shook George's hand and congratulated Alicia.

Hermione came over to sit beside Ginny. "Fred Thomas is a lovely name," she said. "The origin of Fred is Old German and means peaceful ruler, while Thomas is Aramaic, and means twin." Her cheeks turned pink. "Ronald is Old Norse; it means mighty."

George said, "As in one who works a mighty lot of hours? Excellent!"

"I'm ready," Ron said. "I can handle it."

After the group left, Alicia put Fred in his bassinet and slid her arms around George's waist. "I never considered the meaning of names. My dad wasn't a twin, his parents named him after a grandfather."

George pulled her closer. "We're carrying on a tradition, then, as well as honouring those we love."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "What if we'd had a girl?"

"Thank the stars we didn't. Frederique Thomasina is a name out of Holidays with Hags."

"How do you know?"

"Mum has a copy autographed by Lockhart."

Alicia was giggling when Caper edged into the room.

"Congratulations Madam, Mister." He glanced toward the bassinet with shining eyes. "Today is a day of much happiness."

Alicia was surprised to hear the baby coo. "I thought he was asleep." She went to the bassinet. "Darling, I want you meet someone very special." She sat in a chair so Caper could look down into the baby's face.

"Greetings, young mister." Caper touched the back of Fred's hand.

Fred's tiny fingers curled around the elf's fingertip and held on.

"Look at that grip!" George said. "Give him a bat and he'll inspire fear on the Quidditch pitch one day."

"I fear for all things breakable in the flat," Alicia said. She smiled at Caper. "You'll have to teach me your variations of _Reparo_."

The elf gently pulled against Fred's grip. "Young mister is very strong."

"And bound to be strong willed," George said.

Alicia took her cue. "He'll need loads of guidance—two godfathers instead of one."

Caper's eyes widened. "Two?"

"Bill's already agreed," George said. He put a hand on Caper's shoulder. "We want you to be Fred's other godfather."

If Caper's eyes had widened before, they now seemed ready to pop. "House-elves is not godfathers to wizards!" He stepped away from the baby.

Fred startled and began to cry.

"Shhh," Alicia said, cradling the baby against her chest. She rocked back and forth but he continued to fuss.

George exhaled deeply. "Fred's sensitive," he said. "Comes from being born in the caul, I expect." He shot Alicia a _well-he-would-have-been _look before turning a sombre face to Caper and heaving another sigh.

Caper sidled closer to the baby. "Destined for greatness. Is you saving the caul?"

"No. Should we have?" Alicia asked.

"Cauls is powerful charms against drowning." Caper reached out to pat Fred on the back. "Young mister is not needing charms. I is honoured to be his godfather."

"Thank you," Alicia said, envisioning a future in which her son brought home a picture of a house-elf holding a human baby with "My Godfather" written beneath it—and received only praise. While George shook Caper's hand and began talking shop, she looked down at Fred.

He had fallen asleep.

After visiting hours were over, the reality of parenthood sank in. Fred went two hours between feedings, but that didn't mean Alicia got an hour and a half of sleep at a stretch. The baby's slightest sound awakened her.

During the next two days, except for the few times he left to check on the shop, George stayed at her side, helping care for Fred. He brought the baby to the bed to nurse and carried him back to the bassinet when he fell asleep. In the middle of the night, when Fred decided to stay awake and take a long look at his new world, George held him and carried on a one-sided father and son chat that made Alicia wish wizarding photographs preserved sound as well as movement.

On the third morning, they said goodbye to the centre staff and situated the baby's carry handle seat in the back of the Ministry car Arthur had appropriated for the ride home.

From the front seat, Molly said brightly, "Anne and I hoped you would choose the Cheeky Monkey sleepsuit for Freddie. Yellow goes so well with red hair."

George rubbed a strand of Alicia's hair between his fingers. "So does brown."

Arthur dropped them off with the promise to stop by after work.

Molly stared after the car with a look of fond exasperation. "He's been organising the shed, placing batteries on high shelves so the babies won't try to lick them. Merlin knows where he got the daft idea children would do such a thing." She adjusted her hat. "Ah, well, I'm off to do the marketing. Charlie will be here at the weekend."

Alicia waited until Molly hustled off to ask, "So who licked the battery?"

"Ronnikins. There's one called a nine-volt Fred and I got him to 'test' with his tongue. It only tingled, but Dad wasn't pleased."

"Maybe he expected there to be more of a shock."

George bent to kiss her. "Stars, I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

Fred gave a short, low-pitched cry.

"Has it been two hours already?" Alicia asked.

George looked at his watch—his twin's watch. "Yes." He lifted the seat by its handle. "It's okay, son, we're almost home."

Fred's next cry sounded choppy.

"Uh oh, he's upset. Better hurry." George strode briskly down the alley.

Once they reached the flat, Alicia said, "Here. I'll nurse Fred in the bedroom." She unfastened the straps holding the baby and lifted him into her arms.

She noticed instantly that the cot was gone. A rocker crib and a nursing chair stood in its place. Alicia turned to see George in the doorway.

"You're probably wondering what happened to the cot," he said.

Fred was trying to nurse through her top. Alicia sat in the chair and undid the discreet hooks with trembling fingers. "What happened?"

He walked across the room. "I moved it."

Her heart was racing. She felt almost dizzy. "Where?"

"The nursery." George knelt down beside the chair. He touched the dimple in Fred's cheek and then cupped Alicia's face with his hand. "I didn't do it on my own. I tried, but I couldn't," he said. "I had to ask for help."

She turned her face to kiss his palm. "Those who love you want to help, and believe me—it meant the world that you asked." _It means everything to me. _

Alicia burped Fred and switched him to the other side. "So those times you left to check on the shop you were fixing up the nursery?"

"Supervising, mostly," he said wryly. "The Cheeky Monkey Jungle theme included a spell-it-yourself mural, but I'm not the best painter. Ginny said my male lion looks preggers." When Alicia raised Fred to burp him, George kissed the back of his head. "You'll avenge your dad's honour." He chortled. "No Pee-Pee Tents for Auntie Ginny."

She felt warmth that didn't come from within. "Speaking of pee pee," she said. "Fred needs a nappy change."

George eyed his son warily. "Is it that sticky black stuff?"

"No." Alicia saw the relief on his face and hid her amusement. George thought meconium was nature's way of making dads look forward to normal dirty nappies.

"The changing mat's in the other room," he said.

Alicia slowly rose from the chair.

George took the baby, cradling him against his chest. Father and son looked at each other intently. After a few moments, George said huskily, "C'mon, Fred, it's time."

With a smile that made Alicia's heart turn over, her husband led the way to the nursery.

* * *

-

_Kharg__a Oasis, Egypt_

April 1, 2000

-

Within the black tent shaded by date palms, George sprawled against red and indigo cushions, enjoying the slight breeze from a cooling charm and the view of his "dancing girl" lying on her side. A headband and arm cuffs were all she wore after a seductive performance. The black and gold bra and sleek skirt of her Egyptian costume had been long discarded.

_I still can't believe__ Alicia took belly dancing lessons. _Fred's voice was admiring. _She was sweet to do that for me._

George frowned. "She did it for me, not you."

"Did what?" Alicia asked around a yawn. She stretched in a way that tempted George to ask her to dance again—this time without the costume.

"Learned to belly dance."

She sat up, wrapping herself in a black veil.

Alicia's determined expression made George nervous. He tried to joke, "If that's for modesty, I can see right through it."

Her lips curved, but her eyes were serious. "I don't mind. I have nothing to hide."

_Meaning she thinks you do._

"Obviously," George muttered. He froze. "Did I say that aloud?"

Alicia nodded. "You do that a lot."

He tried to gauge her reaction. "Do you think I'm a head case for talking to myself?"

"No." She took a deep breath and said in a rush, "I think you talk to Fred the way I do with my dad when I know just what he'd say." Her smile was lopsided. "It doesn't happen for me very often, but when it does, I feel close to him, like he's still with me."

The question left hanging was, _is Fred still with you?_

George blamed the draft from the cooling charm for making his eyes water. He rubbed a hand over his face and said, "You know how there's a voice in the back of your mind, running commentary like Lee at Quidditch match?"

"Yes."

"Ever since..." He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Ever since the battle the voice I hear is Fred's and—and I don't think it will ever go away."

"It doesn't have to." Alicia wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight.

George was expressing his love and gratitude with a deep kiss when a voice on the other side of the tent wall said, "Mister and Madam needs to be leaving if they is wishing to toast the sunset."

"We'll be right out!" George said. He kissed Alicia again. "Thank you for my birthday present."

Her eyes sparkled. "It was my fantasy, too."

It didn't take long to dress and help Caper shrink the enchanted tent and place it in the pouch to return to their captain, Wa-el. The elf then Apparated them from the western desert to the Nile and a boat anchored at Luxor.

A traditional two mast sailing vessel, the Sandal once carried stones and now had cabins to accommodate small groups of passengers. George and Alicia joined the family gathered on the upper deck, where white curtains shaded low tables and chairs.

On the deck in front of their grandparents' chairs, two toddlers sat side by side, each absorbed in taking colourful fabric blocks out of separate buckets. George's eyes were drawn to the boy with wavy red hair, who tossed his blocks in every direction instead of placing them tidily on the deck. A wave of love and pride swept over him.

His son looked up and cried, "Dada!"

Next to Fred, Louis smiled before continuing to empty his bucket. While Fleur took Bill's hand to manoeuvre her heavily pregnant belly out of a chair to hug Alicia and ask about the oasis, George watched Fred crawl over to a table and pull himself to his feet.

"Up!" Fred lifted his arms, his dimpled fingers making grasping motions.

George held out his hands. "Come to Daddy."

Fred took a wobbly step and then halted. "Up!"

_He__ takes things a step at a time, like you._

George scooped up his child and looked into guileless brown eyes. "Are you going get into as much trouble as I did?"

Fred's grin displayed four teeth.

Alicia rushed over. "He took his first step!"

"Mama!" Fred launched himself into her welcoming arms.

The rest of the family gathered round, exchanging stories of when they had learned to walk.

Caper materialised at George's side. He had a green bottle in his hand. "The sun is beginning to set."

George took the bottle. It was Stella, Fred's favourite Egyptian beer: sold everywhere and cheap. He lifted it in a toast. "Happy birthday, Fred."

_Happy Birthday, George._

The silence that fell made George aware that he'd accidentally spoken aloud.

_Maybe it wasn't an accident__, _Fred's voice whispered. _Maybe you wanted them to hear._

"Happy birthday, Fred," Alicia echoed.

Fleur held up a bottle of mineral water. "_Joyeux anniversaire __beau-frère."_

As his family toasted Fred, George admitted that he had wanted them to hear and join him in celebrating Fred's life.

_Thanks, brother—now celebrate your own._

_I am. _George felt a wet, open-mouthed kiss against his cheek and turned to smile at his laughing son.

-

* * *

-

A/N: _The...End. I finished, sweetheart. You wanna celebrate? So do I._

I'm such a Joan Wilder from _Romancing the Stone, _crying over a happy ending. I had to use the quote. **Special Thanks **to **MollyCoddles **for being a beta who not only catches errors and but gives encouragement, feedback on plot, and even created an icon of Dobby/Caper wearing a fez! I was tempted to use another Romancing quote in the email when I sent her ch 40—_read it and weep. I always do—_but somehow resisted. (Must have got distracted looking for tissues. :D )

It took a wicked long time to finish the last chapter, but there was a lot to write (as the 6600+ word count proves, heh) and I tried my best to make the wait worth it. I used the Trelawney "Seers are persecuted" and "Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup" from the books. All the other bits, from cauls being portents of psychic ability and protection against drowning to Egyptian belly dancer costumes and private cruises down the Nile I got from googling whenever inspiration struck.

Another quote that came to mind is _when the reader finishes a good novel, he sighs, says, "That was good, but I wish there was a little more of it" and regretfully closes the book._ I hope everyone who reads this story feels that way.

The readers who let me know how they felt about the last chapter, and whose reviews I'll miss responding to, were...**40/16, adrienne.hope, Alex the Anachronistic, alix33, BandonBanshee, Blue Leah, BobbieJo1, btyrhtout, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, Cassandra's Cross, cinroc, Creative Touch, Dangling.Radishes, Dannie 7, Diana42, ElspethBates, Falln4DarkAngel, Fibinaci, GraceRichie, hermioneron, HPFanFictionFan, Hungarian Witch22, I'myoursweetestgoodbye, infinity, Kates Master, Kylani, Lady Adrienne Faery, Lady Clark-Weasley of Books, LunaLiving9, Lysimarchos, MBP, mischief-maker1, MollyCoddles, Moontime, Mrs.Hermione Jane Weasley, obliviate, PhoenixDreamer55, Robyn Hawkes, Rose of the West, Sivaroobini Lupin-Black, Slipknot-3113, Snuffles7, SOphia.weasley, sophia666, Squealing Lit. Fan, sunny9847, tambrathegreat, The-Unknown Halliwell, tiffyrose, Tina101, Twinsmom, vintagejgc, WeasleyWeakness, xxxxxxxxOOOOOOOO, xXChristinaXx, x.o.gossipgirl.x.o, and xoxphoenix.**


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